Sanctuary
by tinparrot
Summary: One Draco. One Hermione. Need I say more? A bantering take on what would happen if Draco and Hermione had to stay together in one dormitory as Head Boy and Girl. Dramione eventually.
1. Mice

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Though if Draco's for sale, call me.**

**Hey guys. This is my first fic. I really enjoy reading about two people who banter and bicker so be prepared for lots of that. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but I am not going to drastically change the story line for anyone. And now, I proudly present…**

***Edit* Weeee. So now it's rewritten…and up to par with everything I've written recently…knida. Why is it so damn hard to write exposition? Anyway. Review baby dolls.**

XXX

Hermione Granger had come into the world a spitting image of the ideal child. She listened to her parents. She turned in her homework on time. She even remembered to feed the cat after dinner. She'd always done exactly as she was told and performed every task to perfection. Her life sat on the right shoulder of perfect.

Her parents, as parents have a habit of doing, adored her as well. They provided for her, cared for her, and had always been present to set her back on her feet on those rare occasions that she fell down. They simply wanted her to make them proud of her as a daughter, to always do her best in any situation.

Hermione, being the aforementioned good girl, always did her best. Whether it was something as important as an essay on avian transfiguration at high altitudes or something as small as making sure the dishes were pristinely clean before she put them away. Hermione performed both tasks with a smile on her face, perfectly as she could. She enjoyed the art of perfection and the journey to reach it.

However around her fifteenth birthday, the house had begun to fill with quiet friction. The issue revolved around the fact that _Hermione's _view of her best and her _parents'_ view of her best were on two entirely different planes. If she got and A, they wanted an E. If she got an E, they wanted and O. If she got an O, they wondered why she didn't get O's more often. Everything she did could have been done better, more efficiently, or more precisely. Everything she said could have been said more eloquently, more concisely, or more politely. She could always be more. She never met their standards which they set so high with no regard for her opinion. And lately, she was sick of it.

XXX

"Hermione! Where are you? We're going to be late!"

"Yes, mother, because _we_ are going to Hogwarts. And _we_ are going to have a good time. And _we_ are entering _our_ last year of school." Hermione came down the stairs carrying her purse, several bags, and a large box of her favorite decorative embellishments from her room.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, young lady! I am your mother!" The woman gave her a stern look, and then continued. "Why are you insisting on carrying all of this with you? It won't help you get better grades."

"You know what? It might." Hermione's voice was short, annoyed slightly by her mother's superiority.

Her mother laughed in a self-conscious trill. Hermione looked up at her. Her parent was wearing a consciously plain brown dress that had been chosen for its lack of attention-catching qualities. It was a deliberately ugly garment but tailored so expensively that the effect was of a double standard. It called for attention then made the viewer shrink in guilt at having looked.

"Darling, a hundred shiny trinkets does not an education make." She chuckled again. Hermione forced a smile. It was her mother's favorite phrase. "You know you'll be in the library most of the time so what does it matter what your room looks like?"

"It's this revolutionary concept called enjoyment, mother. It means that when I am in my room, I will_ like_ being there."

Her mother waved her hand as if to wave off the comment."Nonsense. If you really have to carry all _that_ with you, I don't see why you can't just magic it there."

Hermione bit back a vulgarity. She hated this particular attitude of her mother's toward magic. Even though Hermione had told her a hundred times that she had to be seventeen to use magic outside of school, when she was particularly stressed the cynic came out

"Hermione?" Her mother snapped her fingers. "You must be day dreaming again. Now, you don't need all this do you?

Hermione debated whether or not to answer. On one hand, if she answered it nicely, she would be forever the lovable daughter that could do no wrong. On the other hand, if she sassed it, she would be a bawdy disgrace and not be spoken to during the car ride to King's Cross. She decided to take the latter.

"Well, you see, _mother_," she began, putting a heavy emphasis on her maternal parent's name, "I have always had this fabulous fantasy that, if I loaded myself down with parcels, a strong, handsome man would come to my rescue just as I was about to fall from the weight of my load. Then he would sweep me off my feet and carry me away to a far distant castle where we would live happily ever after. A hundred years from now, I will be in a book read to young children by –"

"That is quite enough!" Her mother barked at her, eyes bulging slightly. "I don't know what has gotten into you lately! I thought your father and I did a better job raising you than to have you talk like sarcastic school boy. Then maybe you would turn out to be-"

"A wonderful, caring daughter who made you proud and married a sensitive man who was good to his mother-in-law," finished Hermione under her breath. She had heard this speech so often as of late that she found it a bit wearing.

"What was that?"

Hermione plastered a smile on her face. "Oh nothing. Now, we had better be off. _We _wouldn't want to miss the train now would we?"

Before her mother could reply, Hermione sped out the door and down the steps into the waiting car.

XXX

The steam engine sat in the station platform. Its' tall, regal presence overwhelming Hermione for a brief moment before the familiar smells of the platform wafted over her. Her parents had dropped her off only moments before, her mother's lips pulled tight in an obligatory smile. Even though they said good-bye, Hermione could tell her parents were having a very serious talk about her right now. Not that it mattered, she would be seventeen in just over six months. Most of her studies this year were advanced, giving her much to do and think about. She would be plenty busy. Family squabbles would be forgiven.

The platform was packed with bodies. Faces she recognized and faces she didn't pushed past her on all sides, blurring together in an electrically excited mass. She began to make her way in the general direction of the train, aiming her movement toward the white column of vapors rising to the station ceiling. It was slow work as all the students and parents were intent on getting to their destination. Just as she reached a clearing in the crowd, she heard her name called from over her right shoulder.

"Hey! Hermione!" She turned to see Harry and Ron striding toward her.

The summer had been good to the boys. Harry had grown another four inches and filled out across his chest and shoulders. Summer Quidditch had turned pre-teen fat into hard, condition muscle that pulled and stretched attractively under his clothing. He had retired the ever-broken glasses for contacts that made his green eyes more prominent and intense. His moderately tall frame was dressed in dark khaki pants that hung a little snuggly for Hermione's taste and a forest green shirt that was slightly arrogant in the fit. Judging by the group of love-struck fourth years gathered behind him he pretended not to notice, Hermione deemed him handsome.

Ron, on the other hand, remained tall and thin as he always was. His red hair was cut asymmetrically, lending a rock-inspired air to his still boyish features. Maintaining this uncharacteristically edgy look was a tee shirt for a band resting snugly over a modestly defined torso. Fitted jeans held up by a studded belt adorned his legs, slimming in at the hems and ending in black high tops. Though the two boys had very different styles, one couldn't say they were unattractive.

Hermione smiled calmly, security washing over her as she walked to them.

"Hello there, boys." Hermione let go of her luggage trolley and enveloped them both in hugs. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing much," replied Harry, smiling as he flicked his hair out of his eyes. Hermione saw the girls collectively inhale behind him. "You? Did you get a job or anything?"

A handful of snarky comments popped into her head, each more cruel than the last. Hermione pushed them down. She'd been rude enough for one day. Just because her parents were overbearing didn't mean she had to punish the two people in the world that gave her comfort.

"No. I've just had a pretty quiet summer. We went on holiday to Ireland. The countryside is so beautiful in the –"

"Well Harry here has had some pretty cool stuff happen to-" Ron didn't get the sentence out before Harry hit him hard in the shoulder. "Ow! I was just telling her about-"

"One more word and I'll kill you," Harry growled.

"What? You honestly think she wouldn't know?"

For an answer, Harry caught Ron around the neck and tried to take him down. Ron, who was having none of it retaliated. He however did not have the grace of a seeker and left his abdomen exposed to Harry's fist.

Hermione watched amusedly for several minutes. Though the boys were indeed caught in a tussle against one another, they were overtly conscious of the female collection standing watch to the side

"Boys!" She barked at them suddenly. "Is this necessary?"

They grinned up at her and in unison said, "Yes!" then went back to their scuffle. Hermione only had time to feel exasperated for a second before the fight got out of hand. Harry's leg came out from the fray and managed to hook itself around her ankle, toppling her balance in one motion. She tried vainly to lessen the impact of her fall, twisting around, planning to bear the brunt of her weight with her hands.

Instead of meeting the stone slabs that made up the train platform, she met a well-muscled torso clad in a dark blue tee shirt. The arms of the man she'd fallen against automatically went to her waist to steady her.

_Oh how disgustingly clichéd. Perhaps he can be gorgeous to further complete this romance novel stereotype._ She laughed to herself, flicking her eyes up to meet the face of her rescuer.

"Hello Granger." The egotistical face of Draco Malfoy stared down at her.

_You have got to be kidding_. Her face pulled into a defensive smile as she pushed away from him, his chest flexing distractingly.

"Did you have an enjoyable summer, Granger?"

"Malfoy," she said, mocking his use of her last name, "that really isn't any of your concern." Her icy words contrasted violently with the jovial simper on her face.

He grinned a little. "I see. It's nothing I just usually like to keep tabs on people who dream about he. But you, of course, are entitled to your secrets."

_Oh you want to fight? Alright then._

Hermione threw up her hands in an imitation of being discovered. "You caught me! I did dream about this snobby spoiled little mouse who was always mean to the other mice on the playground. But he would run crying to daddy mouse when baby mouse's pocket change ran low. Then Daddy Mouse would pat him on the head and say 'There, there. Here's some more money. Go squander it on a classless whore mouse because no one else will love you.'" She paused. His eyebrows had risen a fraction of an inch. "Yes, I think that was you. Am I right?"

He only looked taken aback for a second, eyes adjusting to her words, before a sexy smirk fell across his mouth. "Well, well, well. My secret has been let out. But, if I do say so myself, classless whore mice are generally much more entertaining that little mice that sit at home and get far too over excited when the latest edition of Webster's Dictionary comes out." His smirk grew, a rogue bang falling across his ice-blue eyes. He mock-tipped his hat at her and said, "Have a nice day" before striding off towards the train.

XXX

**So…I hated this chapter. To the point that I couldn't even read it because I hated the writing so much…so I fixed it. Now I likes it a good deal more. Even though it won't alert you, you should review if you read this. Pwetty pwease? With my paws clasped Puss-In-Boots style around a badass feather hat?**


	2. Dragons

**Hey there guys. I hope you like the story so far. Thank you SOOOO much to**** '****SillyBellaEdwardsForMe' and 'Beautiful Screams of Heartache.' You guys are my first reviews EVER!! I love you to death! Thank you again! Don't forget guys. Reviews are WELCOME!! Happy reading.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. But I still want to buy Draco. Pretty please?**

A short time later, Hermione was comfortably settled into the heads compartment near the front of the train. She had pulled the blinds closed to ensure maximum privacy during her trip. The fluffy crimson cushions behind her back, combined with the gentle rocking of the train, lulled her into a slight stupor. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. She let the warmth of the sunlight streaming in from the window envelope her body fully.

Just as she was reaching the twilight zone between the realms of slumber and consciousness, the compartment door slid open. Hermione's eyes flew wide as she turned to look upon her visitor.

"Hello again, Granger." Draco Malfoy once again stared down at her with slight amusement.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Hermione's face twisted into a slender snarl.

"Language, Granger. That could quite possibly get you into serious trouble one day." Malfoy's smirk returned in full force as he spoke these words.

"Hark! Who's talking? I am fairly certain that mouth of yours is much more accomplished at swearing than mine is." She turned away from him, as though to ignore his lingering presence.

"That's not the only thing it's accomplished in." Hermione turned back to him, a look of shock and disgust written all over her face.

"I beg your pardon!"

Malfoy grinned and started to laugh.

"Shut up you disgusting pig and get the hell out of my compartment. I'm expecting someone."

"Oh! Don't tell Granger roped herself a boy toy! Well, I must call the lunch trolley! Pour the champagne! This calls for a celebration!" Malfoy mock-clapped his hands and cheered.

Hermione shot him a furious look. "Just shut up and get your sorry ass out of my compartment." She abruptly turned away and stared out the window.

After a short pause Malfoy inquired, "If I may, what brought about such a remarkable change in such a short amount of time?"

She turned back around to face him. "What?"

"Well," he paused, and looked as though he was choosing his words carefully, "last year you were the perfect little angel student who always did the right thing and never committed even the slightest wrong." He slumped back in his seat and folded his arms.

"Why thank you! I think that should go down in the hall of fame as one the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me! I am honored." Her voice was sardonic.

His face twisted. He was clearly restraining himself from saying what was running through his mind.

"This year, well, you've – changed into a -" he broke off, searching for the right word.

Hermione helped him along.

"Seductive siren? Femme fatal? Voluptuous vixen? Enigmatic enchantress?"

He shook his head. "I wish some of those fit, but the only words that come to mind are 'one hell of a bitch.'"

Hermione regained the upper hand almost at once. "I stand corrected."

Malfoy looked confused. "What?"

"_That_ was the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me."

"Ha ha." He frowned, heavy brows casting sapphire orbs into semi-darkness so that they burned brighter than ever.

Several long, silent, uncomfortable minutes passed.

"So?" Malfoy queried.

"So what?"

"Why the sudden change?"

"Oh, that." Hermione smiled. "It's a little thing I like to call 'rebellion.'"

"Rebellion?" Malfoy looked confused again.

"Yes, rebellion. R-E-B-E-L-L-I-O-N. Noun. Origin in Old French. Means-"

"I got it." His voice was curt.

"All right. Now, what was the question?"

"For the ten millionth time, why the abrupt change?" Malfoy looked aggravated. She made a face before answering.

"Oh, the usual. I don't really agree with my parents on everything anymore." She shrugged and looked down at the carpet, playing with her hands

"I'm floored," he said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Her head snapped back up to look at him and anger burned in her eyes.

"Why am I even telling you this?" Her voice rose in irritation.

"I don't know? Maybe you should shut up and think about why that is. It'd do me a favor." While her voice was elevated with annoyance, his remained calm and quiet as always.

"I am not going to do anything for you unless it causes you aggravation or humiliation." Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"I have a quick solution to end this dispute. Why don't you shut up, go to hell, and leave me alone." He tossed his head to stare out of the window again. Hermione could think of no way to get out of that one. Seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. By the time she thought of a suitable answer, the topic was closed. Falling angrily back in her seat, she silently fumed to herself over Malfoy's slight victory, while watching the victor with a searing hatred.

XXX

Hours passed in silence while Malfoy continued to stare out of the window. Hermione, tired of the quiet, decided to poke the dragon again.

"Are you ever going to comply with my request?"

His eyes flicked over towards her. Their sudden intensity almost caused her to recoil. Almost.

"What request? The only things I have received from you since entering this compartment are harsh commands and degrading insults." His voice was bitter, despite it's calmness.

"My request that you remove yourself from my presence," she answered smartly, deciding to ignore the rest of the sentence.

"You call that a requ-" The compartment door slid open and Ron's high tops preceded him inside.

"Hermione, I was just checking to make sure everything was-" He came to an abrupt halt as his gaze fell on Malfoy.

"What the hell is he doing here?" he snarled.

"I was just asking him that when you came in," replied Hermione, looking up at him.

"And? What did he say?" Ron's words were forced out through gritted teeth.

"Did you not here my reply, Ronald? I said I was 'just asking him.' Even you should realize that meant I hadn't wheedled an answer out of him yet." Hermione's cutting remark left Ron speechless for a few seconds.

"This is interesting," came Malfoy's voice from the other seat. "Weasel's speechless. I do believe we have a first!"

Ron turned to him, hatred emanating from him like a powerful wind.

"I'm not above hitting you, Malfoy," Ron said, looking as though it took every ounce of strength he had not to thump Malfoy right there.

"Now, I could have told you that, Weasel, seeing as you're not above me in anything."

Ron cracked and flung his fist at Malfoy. Malfoy parried the blow with one strong forearm and shook his finger at Ron.

"No, no. That's a bad Weasel. We mustn't do thator the other Weasels won't want to play with you anymore."

"Ron," said Hermione, laying a hand gently on his arm. Ron turned to her.

"Ron, I'm fine. Really. You can leave now. I'm okay." Hermione's voice was firm.

"Are you sure?" Ron looked concerned.

"_Ron_."

Looking beaten, Ron jerked away from Malfoy and stared down at him. "I'm watching you." Ron glanced at Hermione once before muttering "bastard" and striding swiftly out of the compartment.

As the door slammed shut, Malfoy looked up at her in surprise.

"What?" There was a lingering hostility in her voice, as though her temper was not completely in check.

"Why did you do that?"

"What, get rid of Ron?" She grinned to herself. "Oh, I just figured I was perfectly capable of handling a man of such low brain capacity as yourself without too much difficulty. I didn't really need him." She smiled and sat back down in her seat. Unfastening Crookshanks' basket, she allowed him to curl up on her lap before she picking up her favorite book and stubbornly ignoring Malfoy for the rest of the journey.

**Hey there again. I have two things to say.**

**This chapter was originally twice as long, but it was just too much. I'll have the other half for you tomorrow. **

**I know Hermione was a bit of a bitch in this one, but it's all part of the plot.**


	3. Birds

**Disclaimer: The plot is mine and that's it. All else (including Draco) are sadly not mine. sob**

The rest of the trip passed happily enough. Well, as happy as a trip could pass under the circumstances. Hermione was rather disappointed that the Head Boy never showed up to introduce himself, but she figured one look at Malfoy scared him away immediately.

At long last, the conductor's voice came from over the loud speaker. "We will reach Hogwarts in ten minutes' time. Please leave all luggage on the train. It will be taken up to the school for you. Remain seated until the train comes to a complete stop. Thank you."

Hermione ignored the last instruction of the conductor and began reaching up in the luggage rack to organize her things for departure. Unfortunately, one of her many boxes was above a sleeping Draco. Standing up quietly, she crept across the compartment and climbed up on the seat. Taking a minute to catch her balance, she stretched up toward her prize, lithe curves arching gracefully.

Hermione had just about reached her target when the train gave a violent jerk as it was pulling into the station. For the second time that day, Hermione lost her footing and tipped back onto the floor. The noise of her impact jerked Malfoy awake. He looked around, then down at her. Both thick eyebrows shot high up in surprise.

"Having fun?" His mouth twisted into a grin.

Hermione glared up at him. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I heartily enjoy falling on my ass in front of people I dislike. It's become quite a hobby of mine, actually."

"Alright, alright. Take it easy."

He stood and swiftly moved to the door. Pulling it open, he waited for her to pass through. Hermione took her sweet time picking herself up off the floor and straightening out her skirt.

"Are you coming or not?" Malfoy's voice was slightly aggravated.

"I didn't ask you to hold open the compartment door open for me. You just _wanted_ to."

Malfoy glowered at her. "I didn't _want_ to. It's what a gentleman would do."

"I'm so glad you're up to date with the latest proper etiquette for modern gentlemen. I'll remember that in future." Malfoy chose not to answer that one, preferring instead to observe her movements with an impatient –and critical- eye.

Even though he thoroughly disliked the girl now prancing around making sure she hadn't forgotten any personal belongings during of the journey, he had to admit she wasn't bad to look at. Her wild, bushy brown hair had tamed itself into brown hair had tamed itself into lose, corkscrew ringlets that she wore just below her shoulders. Her frame was not petite but her curves combined to give her an overall voluptuous appearance. Her shoulders were bare due to the periwinkle, sleeveless turtleneck she was sporting (she hadn't changed on the train). The snugness of the turtleneck also allowed Malfoy to take note of the fact that she was fairly well endowed. He could not see the full extent of her figure as a yellow and blue floral skirt flared out from her waist effectively hiding the curvature of her hips. Her legs appeared long in proportion to her short frame and ended in remarkably dainty feet laced up in delicate, blue, cork sandals. Her toes were painted a pale pink, as were the fingernails on her equally petite hands. As she turned to check the front of the compartment, Malfoy observed that her face had thinned and become more angular. She had long, thick eyelashes that encased mahogany orbs in a dark ring. Her eyes sparkled with a secret she would let the world see but never know. Her lips were bow shaped, the bottom slightly fuller than the top which gave her the appearance of a slight pout. She was most interesting.

"I think that's it," said Hermione, surveying the room for one last time.

"Good. Are you now able to leave, your highness?" Draco mock-bowed to her, keeping his back overly stiff and straight.

"Shut it," Hermione snapped. Picking up her purse, she exited the cabin at last, hips unconsciously swaying seductively.

XXX

Outside on the station platform, the night air was thick with the calls of students, the harsh cries of cats, and the screeching of owls. Hermione breathed in the smell of engine smoke and magic. _She was home._

"The young woman stood on the platform, inhaling the welcome scents of the place she loved most in the world. As the idea that she was finally back washed over her, she breathed a sigh of relief. _She, at last, was home._" Hermione turned quickly to see who had been narrating her thoughts so precisely. Malfoy grinned from right behind her.

"Why don't you skip this train platform, get off at the next, and go straight to hell?"

"Because then you wouldn't have anyone to annoy you. And that would be such a shame."

Before Hermione could respond, she heard a voice calling her name.

"Ah. Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy. There you are. Come right this way." Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to them. "The heads' carriage is right over there. Once you two get into the castle, wait for me and I will tell you what you are to do. And Miss Granger, why aren't you in your Hogwarts attire?"

"I wasn't able to change on the train. I'm sorry."

Professor McGonagall looked stern. "Well, can you change before you get into the great hall?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione smiled.

"Good. Well, see you there."

She turned and hastened away into the throng of people. Hermione watched her go, feeling as though something wasn't right, but she hadn't caught on as to what yet. Unbeknownst to her, Malfoy picked up his bags as well as hers and strode off toward the indicated carriage. Hermione turned quickly and, seeing what Malfoy was doing, stomped after him.

"What are you doing?"

"Why, I am helping a lady carry her minimal parcels to the designated transportation unit." He swung the bags onto the luggage rack.

"This carriage is for the head boy and girl you prat. So why are you stowing your things along with mine?"

"Granger, I am perfectly aware that this carriage is reserved for only the head boy and girl, which is why my things are going in the carriage too." He smirked at her, and then climbed into the carriage himself. When she did not follow him he looked out at her and said, "Coming?" She glared up at him with tangible hatred. Realizing that she had no choice, she grasped the handle on the side of the door and followed Malfoy into the depths of the 'transportation unit.'

XXX

A short while later, they pulled up to the castle in front of a small door to the left of the main castle entrance. Malfoy got out first and held the door for Hermione. She stepped down without a word to him and turned to Professor McGonagall who was waiting a little to the right of the door.

"Good, good," she said, clapping her hands smartly. "Now that you both are here, I will show you where you are to wait. Miss Granger,"

"Yes?" said Hermione, puzzled.

"Your robes." Professor McGonagall looked sternly down at her.

"Oh, right." She reached into her bag and pulled out a long set of black witches robes and slipped them on over her head. Professor McGonagall looked disapprovingly at her high heels, but made no comment.

"Very well. Come with me." She turned and marched through the door into a small side chamber that Hermione was sure led off the great hall.

Professor McGonagall turned to them. "Wait here until Professor Dumbledoor calls your names, then proceed into the hall. Let the applause die down, then move to your respective tables. I will see you after the feast to lead you to your dormitories." She turned and disappeared through the door.

"My God, for all that shit she just gave us, you'd think we were being forced to memorize choreography for a ballet," Malfoy said, chuckling at his words.

"Shut up. I'm more pissed at you than I can say right now."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "And exactly why might that be?"

"Like you haven't guessed. Why didn't you tell me that you were head boy?"

"It's a very simple answer if you think about it. I'm surprised that you and all your brains haven't managed to figure it out yet." Yet another smirk was growing on his face. _Doesn't he ever run out?_ Hermione silently asked herself.

"Answer the damn question already before I take a personal interest in ensuring that you _never_ procreate."

Malfoy leaned close to her, fierce indigo orbs boring deeper into her than she would have liked. "You never asked." His voice was a whisper. Hermione stood speechless for a few seconds and was about to say something when Professor Dumbledoor's voice sounded from the other side of the closed door.

"If you could all give a great welcome to our new head boy and girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger!"

"Oh shit! That's us!" Hermione forcefully turned her head to the side, breaking the momentary spell Malfoy had cast. He pulled back with an annoyed expression.

"My ears aren't broken, Granger, I can hear just fine."

"Well, congratulations. Though it is a pity that your mouth _isn't _broken." _Ha ha. I have regained the upper hand._

The side door opened and Hermione and Malfoy stepped out into the great hall to the right of the staff table. Both automatically pasted fake smiles on their faces.

Stepping out into the hall, they raised their hands in acknowledgment, the swiftly went to sit at their tables.

XXX

After what felt like hours later, the meal was at last finished. Hermione hadn't talked much throughout the duration of dinner. Though Harry and Ron both questioned her, she only snapped at them to leave her alone and continued eating. Staring blankly over at Malfoy, she wondered _How in the hell am I going to get along with him all year long?_

Suddenly, the scraping of benches surrounded Hermione, shaking her out of her day dreaming, and she realized that Dumbledoor must have released the students. Standing up quickly, she scanned the hall for Professor McGonagall. She saw her standing off to the side of the hall, Malfoy standing with her.

Grimacing at the thought of Malfoy's company, she made her way over to them.

"There you are," said Professor McGonagall. "Now that you're both here, follow me."

"What about the first years, Professor?" Hermione sped up a little so that she could both talk with Professor McGonagall and get away from Malfoy.

"That is the prefects' job. They will take care of it." Her voice had a certain finality about it that told Hermione there was to be no more talking. Slightly embarrassed, Hermione allowed her pace to slow ever so slightly so that she could get away from the angry professor.

After making their way through winding passageways, down rickety staircases and along several corridors, they at last stopped in front of a large painting of an exotic bird perched on a tree bearing some unknown, succulent fruit.

"Password?" The bird's voice was rich and velvety, not at all how Hermione expected it to sound.

"Transubstantiation," said Professor McGonagall. The bird nodded and the portrait swung open. Professor McGonagall turned them both. "The password changes every other full moon. You must say all previous passwords in order to receive the new one. Miss Granger, your dormitory is through the common room and up the stairs to your right, Mister Malfoy, the same on your left. I realize that there are walls between your houses, but I must ask that you limit your battles to minor concussions. That way I won't be responsible for the death of a student." She smiled at their shocked faces. "In other words, try to get along as best you can. Have a good night." She gave them each a small nod and left.

**Well, there you go. I'm sorry for the long delay. My mom has been monopolizing the computer so I have had no chance to get on it. I am going to make it up to you, however. I will begin writing the fourth chapter as soon as this one is posted. Thanks for reading and please REVIEW!**

**P.S. – There you go BB Macintosh! Hermione is now thoroughly makeover-ed. ;P**


	4. Lions

Disclaimer – Nothing but the plot. floats away on a river of my own tears 

After McGonagall left, Hermione glanced at Malfoy before hurriedly ducking into the common room. Once inside, Hermione straightened her back and glanced around the room. It was a charming space. There were several large, squashy armchairs in front of a roaring fire, neither red nor green, but a rich plum purple. Off to the left, several chairs surrounding a small study table were nestled in a reading niche encircled by shelves of books. A small sink and counter was situated across from the reading niche. Hermione assumed it was a sort of half-kitchen. There were numerous decorative portraits dotting the walls, mainly depicting landscape scenes. Two highly embellished doors sat on the left and right, presumably leading to the dormitories. A thick, purple rug covered the hardwood floors and accented the armchairs. Over all, it was quite nice.

"I suppose you find these accommodations high class beyond belief, do you not Granger?" Hermione turned to see Malfoy ducking through the portrait hole behind her.

"What is that supposed to indicate?" Her guard was immediately up.

"Merely that a mudblood from as low a station as yours has very little experience with fine things, though of course, this _isn't _that fine."

Hermione stared at him. _Where went the semi-nice demeanor he was sporting just and hour or two ago?_

"I bet can guess where your thoughts are running right now. You are wondering where my somewhat polite air went, am I right?"

Hermione didn't say anything.

"Well, Granger, it didn't go anywhere because it never existed in the first place. You honestly think I would have been _that_ civil to you under my own steam? I've wanted, rather, my _father_ has wanted me in this position from birth. I am forcing myself to be – acceptable - to you for the sake of my situation. Outside of this common room, I will be a perfect gentleman to you. Of course, when you lash out, which one of us is going to look like the vicious bitch?" He cocked his head to the side.

Hermione straightened herself defiantly, "Well, this is a very interesting position you have put yourself in here. On one hand, I could change to a nice, sweet girl who gets along with you just fine and behaves exactly as I should and then a nightly ritual of bawling each other out every night will develop. On the other hand, I could continue to be a vicious bitch and insult you whenever I feel like it, knowing you won't retaliate."

"How do you know I won't retaliate?" cut in Malfoy angrily.

"You just said it. Your position would be in jeopardy." A slight smirk creased her mouth and she began to slowly pace back and forth, as though pondering a very important decision. "Now," she said, apparently to herself, but really to Malfoy, "if I were to take the former, it would give you an equal amount of time to call me on all my faults every evening, and I would stick around, calling your faults out as well. If I were to take the latter, I could call out your faults at anytime that happens to be convenient for me, and the teachers wouldn't say anything because they know your personality and they would simply assume that I was retaliating to something you said. That way my title wouldn't get revoked." She stopped and looked at him. "I think I have to take the latter. It's the only way I win at everything."

"I can still rat you out in the common room every night."

"Yes," she said slowly, "if I'm here."

Malfoy looked puzzled. "If I'm in my room doing my homework and the door is locked and silenced, how am I to hear your insults?"

"I could slip hatred notes under the door."

"Yes, you could." Hermione glanced at her watch. "Now, as lovely as this conversation has ended up being, I really want to go take a long, hot bath and rid myself of you for a little while. I should be about an hour." She turned and began walk toward her dormitory

Malfoy called after her. "Why would I care how long you'll be in your 'mini-spa'?"

She turned back to him, a slight smirk of her own creeping across her face. _So you can know exactly how long you are able to stay in that cold shower without being overheard. _"No reason," and turning back around, she disappeared through the door into her dormitory.

XXX

Hermione quickly shut the door as soon as she was over the threshold of her dormitory. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes and exhaled a sigh of relief. How much longer could she stand this? How could she restrain her temper anymore than she already was doing? Opening her eyes, she pushed off the door.

"I am not going to worry about how to deal with that bastard now."

A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. "You just keep telling yourself that Granger."

"Shut it, ass hole!" She whipped her wand out of her purse and pointed it at the door. "_Silencio!_"

Dropping her wand on the table beside the door, she looked around her room. It was richly furnished with many accents and decorations reminiscent of the muggle Victorian era. The bed was a large four-poster with a canopy of red tapestry fabric and side tables with a gold lamp on each. On said bed were mounds of pillows in varying shades of red and gold. A large lion on the comforter as well as the embellished wallpaper that adorned the walls were muted gold. All the furniture was of a deep ebony wood, except for an ornamental plant stand also in the shape of a lion, which had a mahogany mane. A large dresser with an equally magnificent mirror stood across from the bed. To the left of the bed were heavy draperies in the same fabric as the bed that, upon further inspection, were found to open onto a descent sized balcony overlooking the grounds and mountains surrounding the castle. On the opposite side of the bed was a door, less ornamental than the one that led to her room, but fine nonetheless. Hermione walked over to it and pushed it open. She caught her breath and stumbled back a bit.

"Oh my-" Her eyes widened. Inside the door was the most extravagantly decorated bathroom Hermione had every seen. There was a gold bathtub settled in the far corner large enough for four people to comfortably sit in. A vanity table sat in a corner accompanied by an adorable tufted gold chair. Light from the intricately worked sconces and chandeliers that hung on the slightly shinny gold walls was reflected in a large mirror hanging over the sink. All in all it was a beautifully elegant bathroom.

Hermione slowly walked over to the oversized bathtub and turned the water on full blast. A mixture of hot, steaming water and bubbly foam Smiling to herself, she deftly removed her clothing and slipped beneath the bubbly surface.

XXX

The next morning found Hermione sitting in the common room perusing the schedule sent up by a house elf earlier. Though she was doing her best to remain focused on the piece of paper in her hand, her thoughts kept drifting back to a disturbing incident that had occurred earlier that morning

_6:05 Monday morning_

_Hermione trudged out of her room, pulling her hair up into a messy bun as she went. Stumbling over to the kitchen, she was startled yet delighted to see two separate trays of breakfast food for the two of them. What she was not delighted to see was that she was not alone in her early morning snack. Draco Malfoy was standing in the kitchen, naked to the waist and drinking a tall glass of orange juice. _

_Involuntarily, Hermione's eyes skimmed down his body. Whatever he had been doing that summer had done him more good than all the words in the library could tell. His chest was muscled and hard. Well-developed pecs sat above hard chiseled abs. Powerful biceps adorned his arms accompanied by equally powerful forearms. As he turned, Hermione caught sight of his back. His muscles rippled as he set down the glass he was holding, sending a shiver unbidden down her spine. A long, thin scar ran down his right shoulder blade, though, that only added to the sex appeal. _I did not just say that! _Hermione furiously told herself. Unfortunately, this exclamation was escorted by a slight huff of indignation._

_Malfoy's head turned slightly and he caught sight of her. An expression of surprise did not appear on his face, as Hermione had expected it to. Rather, his face seemed to harden for a brief instant before he said, "Getting your eyeful, Granger? Don't worry, you're not the only one."_

_Hermione let out a small cry and looked down at herself. Hermione had always been a lingerie/shoe kind of girl. Her collection was so large that she had had to bring an extra trunk just to fit it all. Last night, she had decorated herself in one of her favorite laciest sets. It was pale purple with an even more pale overlay of lace and small purple ribbon flowers up the sides of the bra and along the back of the panties. From the small clusters of flowers hung strips of white ribbon that swayed every time she moved. To top it all off, she had on a sheer purple bathrobe with more flowers adorning the sleeves and hem. She liked this set because it 1) was very pretty and 2) because it gave her maximum support. Of course, in lingerie lingo, "maximum support" was code for "maximum cleavage."_

_She uttered a small cry, slammed her bathrobe shut, and sprinted back to her room._

Hermione groaned and set the paper down on the coffee table in front of her. To hell with the schedule, she would follow it as she went through the day. She leaned back in the couch, and closed her eyes. She massaged the bridge of her nose, trying to both brush away the beginnings of a raging headache and forget the incident that morning.

A door creaked behind her and she opened her eyes to see Malfoy striding out of his room. He was dressed in his Hogwarts uniform, which consisted of dark gray slacks, a white, collared shirt and green tie under a gray sweater-vest. Over this ensemble was his Hogwarts robe that billowed and swirled behind him as he walked.

He looked over at her and smirked every so slightly.

"Now, I have to know because it has been bugging me all morning." He sat down on the sofa across from her and put his feet up on the coffee table. _Damn he has long legs. _Hermione mentally slapped herself and began chanting _This is Malfoy. This is Malfoy. This is Malfoy._

"Was that little number you were sporting earlier of muggle or wizard origin? Because it looked a bit too fine to be of muggle make."

"If you so much as bring this up again I assure you will be very sorry indeed."

"Are you sure you want to take the chance that I _won't _bring it up again or would you prefer to just – castrate me instead?"

"No, you'd enjoy that too much."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, I really _do _enjoy being emasculated. I am seriously considering making it a hobby. So the sooner you get on with it, the happier I'll be."

"Oh shut up." Hermione snapped. "Here is your schedule. It was sent up with the breakfast."

He took it wordlessly and scanned down the columns. He looked at the schedule lying next to his feet, then up at her.

"This should be quite entertaining. In the event you haven't noticed, we are scheduled to attend all the same classes at the same times."

Picking his feet up off the table, he stood and walked to the portrait hole. Upon reaching it, he turned back to her and said "See you in class," _bitch, _he added silently before pushing open the picture and vanishing into the outside hall.

There you go. The fourth chapter of this lovely – erm – I can't think of what to call it right now because it's late and I have to re-read this before I go to bed. Review please! Thanks in advance.


	5. Willows

**IMPORTANT: I have a one shot up. Please read that too. It's for school. **

**Hey guys. Sorry for the long absence but I have no idea where my muse went. She was on vacation for so long, I don't even remember what she looks like. She called me tonight and I managed to wrestle this chapter from her. It turned out ok I guess. Made me giggle a few times. But what the heck. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Nada**

Hermione stared at the back of the portrait, mouth open slightly. _What the hell just happened? _After sitting motionless for a few more seconds, Hermione stood up furiously. Grabbing her bag, she glanced around the common room to check that she hadn't forgotten anything. After nothing significant caught her attention, she strode over to the portrait hole and out of the common room.

XXX

Hermione threw herself onto the bench next to Ginny, looking thoroughly bad tempered. She yanked the muffin basket to her and extracted it with such force that the delicate baked-good crumbled within her hand. She let out a furious cry and threw the remains of the poor muffin down on her plate. Ginny stared at her, a spoon full of steaming oatmeal half way toward her open mouth.

"Are you ok?" Ginny's voice was low and wary.

"Yes. No. I don't know!" Hermione snapped furiously.

"You need to talk about it?" Ginny asked, concern thick in her voice.

"I don't know."

"That's a yes," said Ginny, somewhat smugly. Grabbing a handful of toast and a crisp, white napkin, she pulled Hermione to her feet and dragged her out of the Great Hall.

Once outside in the grounds, Ginny pushed Hermione down under a large willow tree and shoved a piece of toast into her hand.

"Spill."

The very last piece of resistance in Hermione snapped and she exploded with fury such as the world had never known.

"He is such a jerk! I can't believe it! Yesterday on the train, he came into _my_ compartment all high and mighty and of course I didn't know he was head boy so I…"

And on and on she went, for the better part of fifteen minutes. All her hatred and loathing for the blonde Slytherin spewing from her lips in a single, long, and deliciously insulting speech.

"And this morning! Oh God, you'll never guess." Hermione turned to look at Ginny.

"What? He didn't try to kiss you or anything?"

Hermione shuddered. "If only he had."

"Oh my God. What could be worse than that?"

Hermione bit her lip and said tentatively "Well, you know how I'm a big lingerie kind of girl, right?"

Ginny's eyes sparkled with mischievous delight. "Yeah, go on."

"Well, I was – um – coming down from my room at about six this morning and – um – well, I was just going to get a quick drink and head back up stairs but – um – he was there."

Ginny shrieked with delight. "Oh my God! This is fabulous! What were you wearing?"

"The lacey purple set with bows on it."

"You mean the one with the ribbons that sway when you walk?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh this is too perfect! Oh you must have died. Ha! What was he wearing?"

"Boxers."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

Ginny stumbled back in a mocking over exaggeration of shock. "You're kidding."

"No!" Hermione threw herself face down on the grass and moaned into her arm.

She heard Ginny sit down and rolled over to look up at her. Ginny had a very odd look on her face. Hermione propped herself up on one elbow.

"What?"

"Oh nothing," said Ginny casually, but the odd look remained.

This time Hermione sat all the way up. "What?!"

"Well," Ginny looked highly amused with herself, "did he look good?"

"Ginny!"

"Oh come on! Even if you do hate the idiot, you're not blind and you don't have bad taste! So come on. How'd he look?"

Hermione glanced around to check for eavesdroppers. When none presented themselves, she leaned on close to Ginny. "You have _never _seen a chest like that."

"Really? You really can't tell under all his school stuff."

"Oh my _God_. I'm hard to please when it comes to guys, but _damn._"

Ginny frowned. "Well, thank you for that lovely praise of his chest. When you feel like actually telling me what Malfoy looked like, you will let me know won't you?"

"Don't say his name!" Hermione glanced around again. "Oh fine," Hermione let out a very un-Hermioneish giggle. "He is chiseled like you wouldn't _believe._ He just looks so powerful, so capable. I can't even describe it. His pecs. Oh dear lord his pecs."

Ginny giggled. "He sounds delicious."

"Oh he is. And he turned away from me and I saw his back. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. And he has this sexy scar that runs all the way down his shoulder blade. It's like it just adds to the appeal, you know? And his arms are the size of my thigh, but totally toned and he's just – so sexy!"

"I'm glad you think so, Granger."

Hermione's blood ran cold. She and Ginny turned to look at the tall and, more recently revealed, muscular form of Draco Malfoy walking past their tree on his way toward what looked like Herbology.

"I – We were – You don't – " This was one of those rare occasions where Hermione found herself speechless.

"Don't worry yourself too much. If I were a woman, I'd find my arms sexy too. See you tonight."

He strode away towards the green houses, his commanding presence intimidating all in his path.

Ginny burst out laughing, falling onto the soft green grass and rolling from side to side. Hermione screamed in fury and threw herself back down, Ginny still laughing hysterically.

"How does he always manage to do that? He shows up at the most inconvenient times and just waltzes in and makes me look like an idiot!"

Ginny rolled over onto her side and looked at Hermione. "Wouldn't that be funny if ­–"

But Hermione never found out what would be funny because at that moment, the loud bell boomed out over the grounds, signaling it was time for class.

Hermione stood and brushed off her robes. She turned and extended a hand to help Ginny up. They hurried back to the castle and then down their respective corridors to their classes.

XXX

Eleven hours after the willow tree humiliation, Hermione staggered through the common room portrait hole loaded down with homework, books, parchment, quills, and every other God-forsaken school supply that could possibly be conceived.

Tottering slightly under the weight of her load, Hermione carefully made her way over to an armchair and dropped all the stuff onto its forgiving foam cushion. She then promptly turned her back on it and marched over to her room. If she were going to be able to tackle this beast, she would have to do it in style.

Pushing open the door to her dormitory, she saw Crookshanks stretched out on her bed, the end of his large, fluffy tail flicking lazily.

"Hey handsome! How was your day?" Hermione jumped up on the bed and buried her nose in his thick fur. From deep within his chest came a low purr causing his rib cage to vibrate against Hermione's cheek. She smiled and sat up. "Would you like to keep me company while I do my homework?" He said nothing, just continued to purr louder than ever.

Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed and hopped off. Walking over to her closet, she threw open the double doors and walked inside. This was the closet of her dreams. It was rather small for a room, but rather big for a closet. It measured roughly nine feet by ten feet. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves. All her intimate apparel was lined up on one side and all her clothing on the other. Her shoes, hats, and accessories were proudly displayed behind glass shelves along the back wall. It was the fantasy closet every woman dreamed about.

Hermione undressed quickly and searched through her pajama sets for something fun to wear. She finally settled on a pale blue pair of pants with orange cats, and yellow moons and stars adorning the fabric and a matching blue tank top. Pulling them out, she slipped them on and stepped into fluffy yellow slippers.

She walked back out into her room, pulling her hair up as she went. Picking Crookshanks up, she cradled him in her arms and walked out into the common room. To her complete and utter aggravation, she found Malfoy sitting in an armchair. His robes and vest had been removed. His white collared shirt was unbuttoned and untucked, revealing a white beater underneath. The sleeves had been rolled up revealing his tempting forearms. _No, not tempting. Not tempting. Not tempting._

Hermione hesitated, assessing how best to deal with the situation.

After much debating, she decided the best choice was to ignore him. Squaring her shoulders, she walked over to the reading nook. Setting Crookshanks down on the table, she whispered to him to stay put for a quick minute. Straightening up, she walked over to the chair where she had dumped her books and bag. Gathering them all up in an armful, she took them over to the table. Sitting down in the wooden chair in front of the desk, she began making piles of the work she needed to accomplish that night.

She had separated all her assignments into stacks according to subject, and then arranged them in rows according to priority. She was very pleased to see all the work only took up half of the table. Less space taken meant less to do. The only thing left was to track down a dictionary. She had a very nice one in her room, but it was big and heavy and she didn't feel like going to retrieve it.

She had just begun to skim through the books crammed into the bookshelves surrounding her when she heard a faint rustling behind her. Turning, she saw Malfoy with his bag open at the desk pulling out various books, parchment, and quills.

"And just what do you think you are doing?"

He paused from his work and looked up. "I think I am preparing my self for a rigorous night of homework and boring essays that I must complete by Monday next or risk being thrown out of the class, but I'm not sure. What do you think?"

She fisted her hands on voluptuous hips and tossed her head in aggravation. "I think you are being an annoying jerk who is invading my work space."

"As I recall, this common room is available for both of us to use and I intend to take full advantage of it."

"But – "

"You can't make me leave, Granger, and, to quote you, my 'totally toned arms the size of your thigh' would not have the slightest difficulty in stopping you should you try to forcibly evict me."

Hermione turned away from him in a huff and began perusing the books again, her cheeks flaming. She could just feel the bastard's smirk on her neck as her eyes skated up and down the leather bound tomes.

At long last, she spotted her prize, nestled on top of a row of series of books. She stretched lithely to get it, arching her body towards the ceiling. The dictionary eluded her attempts and remained happily situated just out of reach. Placing one yellow fur clad foot on the bottom most shelf, she stretched up wards again. This time, she reached the book and had just begun to work her fingers around it when her foot slipped out from under her and she tumbled backward on the floor.

"Oof!" She landed on her ass with a light thump. She looked up to see Malfoy smirking at her and standing in just such a way that, had he been so inclined, he could have easily caught her.

"What the hell?!" She spat at him standing up slowly and brushing herself off.

"What could you possibly accuse me of this time?" He crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why didn't you catch me? That hurt. You called yourself a gentleman earlier. The _gentlemanly _thing would have been to catch me."

"I thought about it and realized that when I did catch you, I was insulted and when I didn't catch you, I was insulted. On the whole I thought if I was going to be insulted either way, I might as well let you fall on your rather nice ass and give me a laugh."

"Bastard."

"Bitch."

"I hate you."

"I'm shocked."

"You're a jerk."

"You've told me that."

"Argh!" Hermione whipped out her wand. Pointing it at her books she caused them to levitate and follow her as she stormed off to her room. Yanking the door open, she hurled her books through it and stormed in after them. The sound of her door slamming rang loud in Malfoy's ears.

He sat down in one of the wooden chairs. He threw his legs up on the table and laced his fingers behind him. Tilting the chair back on two legs, he observed the rough stone that made up the room's walls. _This year is going to be much more fun than I thought._

**He he. Gotta love Draco. Please review. Thanks!**


	6. Prefects

Chapter 6

Hello everybody. I have managed at last to bring you a chappie. I finally found my writers inspiration so I hope you like it.

**Disclaimer: Some how, I can manage to take a month long break and **_**still**_** wind up owning nothing.**

XXX

The next morning, Hermione was awakened from a deep and peaceful slumber by an owl tapping its sharp beak on the stained glass window above her bed. She groggily sat up and threw back the covers. Standing, she walked to the window and collected the thick envelope attached to the bird's leg.

She had scantly turned round when there was yet another rap on the window. She rotated around again with a muttered, early-morning curse to see another abominable bird holding a _Daily Prophet_ in its beak. She stomped over to her bag and pulled out a small, bronze coin. Trudging wearily back to the window, she removed the owl of its burden and placed the knut in the leather pouch attached to one scaly leg.

As the bird flew away, Hermione leaned on the windowsill, savoring the cool breeze lifting caramel hair. Inhaling deeply, she stepped back from the opening and shut the pane.

Fully awake now due to the crisp, morning air, she dropped the letters and the newspaper on the desk, quickly selected clean lingerie, and hurried to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged, long hair wet and swinging against her back. Gliding over to her closet, she dropped her clothing into the dirty laundry basket and plucked a terrycloth robe from the rack. Pulling it over her Tuscan orange lingerie, she tied the thick cord around her waist.

Slipping out of the closet silently, she opened her door a fraction of an inch and surveyed the common room. Upon ascertaining that no personage vaguely resembling Draco Malfoy was present, she flung the door open and made her way to the kitchenette.

Several minutes later, she had a hot cup of raspberry tea in her hands and she was padding back to her room. A sound from behind her made her heart freeze and her pace stop. Slowly turning around, she found herself looking into the very face of the man she had been trying to avoid. This time he was more happily clothed in a lose tee shirt and light sleeping pants.

"Morning Granger." His voice was polite – too polite. "How was your sleep?"

Hermione's female antennae went up. "Fantastic, thank you very much."

A smirk waltzed with his lips at that moment. _Shit, here comes the sarcastic retort._

"Have you changed your attire for my benefit or for the benefit of some poor soul who you've decided to give a mercy shag?"

Hermione had a reply ready, though, how, she knew not. "Yours as a matter of fact. I realize that it was so uncomfortable for you to view me so scantily clad. I fully respect how upset your boyfriend would be to discover you were looking at someone other than him in lingerie."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

Hermione faked a look of horror mixed with embarrassment. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I seem to be a little out of date! Your _significant other_."

Malfoy snorted. "You know perfectly well that of the two of us, I am not the one with questionable sexuality. Judging by the amount of time you spend with mini-weasel, I would say you are harboring a fair amount of same-sex tendencies in that very well developed chest of yours."

Hermione could feel her cheeks begin to glow as he mentioned her bosom, but she stoically brushed it off.

"I'm sorry, but I have a letter and a newspaper waiting upstairs for me. I have a hot mug of tea in my hands that is slowly cooling whilst this conversation has been progressing. So, if you don't mind, I will be returning to my room."

She studiously turned on her heel and returned to her room. As she shut the door behind her, she heard Malfoy give light snort behind her. Shaking it off, she entered her closet. The terrycloth bathrobe was a little to hot for her liking. Shrugging it to the floor, she pulled on a short silken nightgown. It was the same Tuscan orange as her bra and ended mid thigh. The thin silken straps of the gown mingled with the straps of her bra. Stepping out of the closet, she moved to her desk. Picking up the two items of post she had received, she looked up and caught a hint of a glorious sunrise peeking through the window curtains.

Smiling to herself, she pulled back the drapes and stepped out onto her balcony. The balcony was about ten paces from door to edge and about twenty paces from side to side. It was semi-circular, with short, stone columns running all along the edge, supporting a waist high railing, wide enough to sit on. Several large, cushioned lounge chairs were placed around a low coffee table and covered in thick, burgundy fabric. Looking to her left, Hermione saw Malfoy's balcony, which was more or less the same excusing the color of the chair fabric.

She settled herself down in the chair nearest her and reclined into its cushiony depths. Pulling out the letter addressed to her first. It was addressed in thick emerald ink in a swirling scroll that looked oddly familiar.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Congratulations on procuring the post of Head Girl this year. I do hope your accommodations are to your liking. If anything is amiss, or you have need of anything else, please direct your questions, concerns, etc. to Professor McGonagall and she will see that you are taken care of. Now, concerning your Head position, you have several duties entrusted to you. _

_First, you and Mr. Malfoy are in charge of organizing and planning all balls and/or social events involving the students or teachers. You will need to draw up a list of all the events you plan on organizing with the dates and times of each event. You will then need to copy said list and distribute it to all the prefects with any further instructions you wish to deliver. _

_Second, you are responsible for organizing the prefect rounds. The students will patrol separate corridors of the school every night in pairs. Seven pairs will be required every night, one to do each floor. Since we have twenty-four prefects, it will be your and Mr. Malfoy's job to organize a schedule for the year of which pairs of prefects patrol when. It's merely a logic problem to figure out how to best arrange the students so that they all patrol an equal number of times. If there are an odd number of nights, the older prefects (in seventh year only) may take up the extra days. I would prefer that you get it finished as soon as possible. Tonight would be ideal, if convenient for you. Since it is only the second day of class, I figured the teachers couldn't give you too much homework._

_Third, you will be responsible for organizing all trips to the village. I know this is technically part of your first assignment, but there is one critical difference. You MUST make sure to search the entire village after everyone has returned to the castle. This is to ensure no deatheaters attempt to enter the school by means of disguise. Should you find anyone, bring him or her to my office at once._

_Fourth, you and Mr. Malfoy have equal status with teachers. You may add or remove points from a student's house if you feel it necessary, you may give out detentions, and you may enforce the removal of privileges. However, if I find you have been abusing your power, you will be stripped of the title of Head Girl and most likely suspended from school._

_Fifth and finally, you are in charge of all password changes for the common rooms of the houses. They need to be changed every new moon. You are required to say a five-word combination to change the password. In this order, the master password, the previous password, your personal Head common room pass word, the new password, and the password to my office. Precisely a week before hand, you will receive a letter precisely one week before the new moon. The letter will contain the precise combination for each house common room. After the password is changed, you will post the new password on the common room bulletin board. It is imperative that you change the passwords as quickly as possible and then destroy the letter as quickly as possible. This is just a precaution to help prevent any unwanted intruders._

_I do believe that is all the information I have for you. Please feel free to stop by my office if you have any more questions._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore_

_P.S. I do enjoy licorice wands._

Hermione snorted a little at the last sentence before setting the letter down and picking up the newspaper. Ten minutes later she had successfully skimmed the newspaper and found nothing of interest. She picked up her half empty tea mug and cradled it in delicate hands. Standing from her chair, she glided over to the railing and perched gracefully upon it, long legs stretching out before her. Her long honeyed locks had dried in the early morning breeze and fell gracefully against her face.

_This is going to be a very different year, _she thought, reflecting on all the new and exciting responsibilities she had this year. The only major downside was that she had to work in such close proximity to Malfoy. She had had a hope living in the back of her mind that maybe she wouldn't have to work with him and they could just divide up the assignments and never have a reason to see each other. No such luck.

Hermione shook her self out of her reverie and turned back to her room. Stepping through the stained glass doors, she shut them behind her. Striding to her closet yet again, she took very little time changing into her school uniform. Swinging her tie around her neck, she made her way to her vanity and sat down.

With a few strokes of her brush, her eyes were laced with a dark brown shadow, adding to their sultry appeal. Nude lip-gloss graced her lips and the very palest of pink blushes was swept on to her cheeks. Her hair twisted itself into a light style down her back in response to a muttered spell and a flick of her wand. Leaning away from the mirror, she observed her reflection.

Satisfied, she stood and slipped on patent leather black flats and swung her bag over her shoulder. Skipping out into the common room, she found it empty and frowned. As much as she didn't want to, she really needed to talk to Malfoy about the prefect schedules.

Dropping her bag on the floor by the portrait hole, she tentatively walked to Malfoy's room. Forcing her faced into an unreadable expression, she raised one hand and knocked softly. She half-hoped that he wouldn't be in his room, there by delaying the inevitable conversation.

Fate was against her as she heard heavy footsteps from behind the door. A lock clicked which was odd to her, and the heavy mahogany door swung open. Draco Malfoy stood there in front of her, yet again, in all his shirtless glory.

Having already perused his back, she was now treated to a full, rather than partial, view of his chest. She hated herself for every bit of visual pleasure she derived from it.

"Can I help you?" The slight amusement in his voice caused her eyes to snap back up to his face.

"Oh, yes. I received a letter from Professor Dumbledore this morning and –"

"Ah yes," he interrupted her with a cocky tone and smirk of perfection. "I was wondering when you would come with your overly organized self attempting to monopolize my evening."

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at the accusation.

"Excuse me! I have no interest in spending the four hours it will require to complete this assignment with you! I am only doing it because it is part of our duty as Heads. Don't you dare try to accuse me of trying to monopolize your time! Would you please put a shirt on or something!?"

Hermione's eyes flew wide in shock.

Malfoy's smirk grew, only to be replaced by a look of mock confusion. "Now, Granger, didn't you want to be a healer?"

Hermione frowned slightly, _How did he know that?_ She decided to play it off coolly. "Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well then," he pushed off the wall slightly, purposely flexing to spite her, "you'll have to get used to naked men."

Hermione withered internally with shame. "I am well aware of the demands of being a healer and am fully prepared to deal with them in a rational and adult manner." She turned away from him to retrieve the letter from her bag.

"Want some practice?"

She whipped around. "I _beg_ your pardon!"

She was insulted to the point of homicide until she saw the smirk growing on his face.

"Be here tonight to work on the prefect chart at 7:00?"

"Now, define work."

"Oh shut up!" Hermione said it harshly. "I'm off to breakfast. Be here tonight to work on the chart."

"If we must." Malfoy shut the door on her.

Hermione picked her bag up and slung it over one shoulder. Pushing her way out of the portrait hole, she found, to her utter amazement, Ginny leaning propped up against the wall waiting for her.

Hermione had never been gladder to see her. She walked forward three paces and let her head fall heavily against Ginny's shoulder.

"I'm cursed!" Hermione moaned.

"What?" Hermione lifter her head and saw Ginny's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"I had another encounter."

Ginny's eyes lit up. "Oo! What was he wearing this time?"

"Boxers."

"_Again?_"

"Yes!" Hermione turned and collapsed against the wall next to Ginny.

"How did this situation come to be born?"

Hermione briefly related the story about the letter from Dumbledore and the prefect chart and everything that had happened after. By the end of the tale Ginny's grin was thoroughly stretched from ear to ear.

Hermione turned sideways to look at her. "What?"

"Oh nothing." Ginny looked down to try to hide the smirk.

"Ginny Weasley tell me what is going on in that flaming red head of yours this instant!"

Ginny looked back at her, giggling now. "Just make sure you wear pretty panties tonight."

"Ginny! You're supposed to be my support system here!"

"Well, you two have a habit of running into each other in awkward, half-dressed situations. You may as well be prepared."

Hermione let out a huff. "Well thank you for the advice, but I have no intention of taking off my clothes, _ever, _for Mr. Mal – "

She broke off in mid sentence due to the squeak of the portrait hole behind her. Turning quickly, she found Malfoy stepping through it. He glanced at Ginny, then Hermione, gave her an acknowledging nod, and strode powerfully past the two of them. Hermione unconsciously watched him walk away. When she returned back to the present, she found Ginny grinning like a Cheshire cat yet again.

Hermione stomped her foot. "Damn it all. _What?_"

Ginny just grinned more widely and said, "Oh, nothing. This is just going to be an interesting year."

XXX

Ok. So I didn't really like that ending, but I figured you guys had waited long enough for a chapter. The reason I've been so delayed is that this is the third version of the chapter that I have completely re-written. I'm still not totally satisfied with it, but hopefully you guys like it. Not quite as much fun in this chappie, but I gotta move the plot forward.

Yes, that line about 'would you please but a shirt on or something' is from _The Prince and Me_ but I couldn't resist throwing it in there.

Edit Didn't like the whole Mione laughing and flirting with Draco bit. Not yet anyway. Cut it out. Also took out the whole of Ginny's makeover. Maybe I'll drop it into an earlier chapter. I don't know. It's 12:04 and I have to paint my room tomorrow.


	7. Cards

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Rights to characters next to my hands. Rights to characters around my hands. Rights to characters beside my hands. Rights to characters under my hands. Rights to characters over my hands. Shockingly, though, no rights to characters in my hands.

**I also changed the accursed ending to the last chapter. PLEASE READ!**

XXX

Hermione sat in her third class of the day. She had already been to Advanced Charms and Advanced Transfiguration. Both were exceedingly difficult and would take up much time and thought over the next ten months, but she could hardly wait to get through basic review to the real stuff.

The class she sat in now was an elective class called Logic in Human Behavior. She had read the brief course outline last year and was intrigued, so naturally, she signed up. What was rather odd to her is that her pain in the arse roomie had signed up for it as well. What possible use could Malfoy have for such a class?

The short witch who taught the class ambled up to her desk. She was at most the height of a tall mop and about as big around as one. She had short, cropped hair dyed a deep chestnut and a rather horse-ish face with a fairly prominent nose. Her large brown eyes were full of a fourth grade mischief that seemed never to have died. She wore corduroy pants in a black and a bright pink shirt. Something about the witch's air suggested to the class that she knew she was unattractive but couldn't care less. Upon reaching the front of the class, she rapped an unusually willowy wand on the desk. She brandished a sheaf of parchment in front of her and glanced around at the class before lowering her hazel eyes to the page.

"When I call your name, answer as though you've got a pair."

As a single unit, the class's heads all snapped to this new teacher. No teacher ever made a remark that was remotely vulgar. Hermione especially was shocked that the teacher let such a vile phrase come out of her mouth. Teachers were the good, law-abiding citizens who kept riff-raff in check. But here, this woman _was_ riff-raff.

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione was too surprised by the teacher's first remark to form a nice, rounded 'here,' so she merely grunted when her name was called to signify she was in fact bodily present in the classroom.

Her confusion-fogged brain didn't register the stupid nature of the sound she let run past her vocal chords. Well, it didn't register at first. She heard a snort behind her and whipped around to see Malfoy. His chair was tilted back on two legs, the center of balance perfectly maintained by the man sitting astride it. He hands were pulled behind his head, the fingertips just barely gripping the backrest of the chair. His lips were parted in a grin - a cocky, judgmental grin - that displayed his obvious amusement at her primitive response. Her slender eyebrows dipped severely in the middle of her face, her features twisting into a snarl directed at the blonde haired man sitting behind her. She turned back to face the front, cheeks flaming.

"Ok," the witch said, rolling up the attendance chart, "it is now customary in schools for me to say something about myself and tell you touchy-feely nothings that are supposed to encourage you to do your best in my class."

She smirked to herself, as though enjoying some private humor.

"But here, now I think that is entirely crap. I'm not going to hold your hand. I am not going to tell you that everything will be fine. This is a hard class. You either get it or you don't. For the 85 of you in my class right now who won't get it, welcome to hell."

She looked around the room, face twisting with an evil grin.

"For the other 15 of you who will get it, I pray you find some use for what you will learn here because I sure haven't."

She swung around and returned to her desk that was raised on a platform at the front of the room.

"Any who – My name is Linda Becks. Know that Becks rhymes with sex and you'll never forget it."

Half the class snorted. The other half looked horrified.

"And in the next sentence I will tell you about me."

She overdramatically threw her arms above her head. The class stared in amazement at the insane woman teaching their class.

"I am immature."

She hopped off the podium spryly and landed like a leprechaun.

"I have an outlandish sense of humor. So in here, you'll get a lot of muggle movie quotes and song quotes and dances and voices and any thing else I feel like doing. This is a hard class. I won't lie to you. But even with that being said, it has the potential to be one of the most comical and entertaining classes of your day. We will laugh. We will cry. Love will be crushed. Relationships will be out in the open. All your dreams will come true and at the end, we will play an enormous practical joke on the school," she winked. "The headmasters don't know about that one. So long as you don't ruin the surprise, all shall be well. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you and goodnight."

She took an exaggerated bow after her rant, one leg thrust out in front of her, her arms splayed out to each side. After coming up from the bow she turned back to her desk and picked something up off it.

She rotated to reveal a deck of playing cards in her hands.

"So right into it. This is a lesson in the behavior of man and it's relation to probability. Every one needs one red card and one black card. The numerical value of the card does not matter."

She proffered the card deck to Seamus in the front row. He reached up to take it. The second before his hand closed around the deck, she withdrew it sharply. He put his hand down, looking beaten. She offered the cards again. Seamus reached to take them but, like before, she whipped them out of his reach smartly.

"Soldier," she said, leaning both hands on his desk and looked him straight in the eye. "I am giving you this card deck as a sign that I hold you in the highest respect. I expect you, in the five seconds it is in your possession, will die to defend it. Can you do that for me soldier?"

Seamus, looking incredibly frightened, nodded.

"Good man," she said and placed the deck on his desk.

While the sacred card deck was being passed around the room, Professor Becks wrote a chart on the board.

All Red 10 pts. All

All Red One Black 50 pts. To one Black

All Black 0 pts. All

Mismatched 0 pts. All

When she was done, she turned back to the class.

"Does everyone have a card now? Yes? Ok. We are going to play a game. When I say 'raise' everyone will hold up a card of his or her choice. If the entire class holds up red, the whole class will get ten points extra credit on the first test. If all hold up red except one, the one who held up black will get fifty points extra credit on the first test. If everyone holds up black or the cards form neither of the winning patterns, no points are distributed. All clear? Ok…and…raise!"

In unison, the whole class lifted a hand sporting either a red or black card. Professor Becks looked around.

"No winner. We have five blacks and the rest red.

Hermione looked at all the people holding up a black card. They were dispersed fairly evenly around the room, so there was no chance of it being a gang that banded together.

"Cards down…and…raise!"

Again, the whole class raised the cards together. And again, Professor Becks called 'no winner! Cards down!'

For the next twenty minutes, Professor Becks continued to call out. But no matter how many times she tried, the number was always incorrect.

Professor Becks had just called them to put the cards down again when Hermione heard someone behind her stand up. Turning, she found it to be none other then the loathsome Malfoy.

What the hell is he going to do now? Hermione grumbled to herself, hating that he was going to be the first in the class to make a statement.

She turned back to look at him. His feet were planted firmly. His shoulders were thrown back. His chin was thrust out. He was standing with all the authority of one who just created the universe.

"Okay guys," he said, looking around at each individual person in turn, "you all are fully aware that the only way any of us is going to get extra credit points is if we all hold up red. I personally would like to start the year off with a good solid O in at least one class. This is the last year that we are going to be at this school. Not only is it the last year, it is the hardest year. We are taking the most advanced classes with the best teachers in the best school around. I know that I am personally going to be working harder then I ever have to ensure that I will even be passing any of my classes." His voice built with emotion that even Hermione could admire, considering the trivialness of the subject. He paused for effect and looked around at the class. "This year, we can make a difference. We can raise the bar for seventh years across the board. We can set a new school standard if we _just work hard enough. _So why don't we do all ourselves a favor and hold up our red cards so we can all get a few extra points to help us with an Outstanding in at least one class during this very difficult and trying year. Can we do that? Can we start off the revolutionary year for Hogwarts with a bang and an O?"

The whole class murmured, "yes" as a whole. Even Hermione had to admit that that was a very impressive speech considering it was a card game.

Professor Becks had a slight smile on her face as she said, "Okay…raise!"

As one, the whole class raised red cards. Professor Becks looked around the room slowly, very slowly.

As her eyes reached the back corner of the room, her mouth spread in a wide smile.

"We have a winner!"

Hermione smiled quietly to herself. _At least I'll get a few extra points on the first…Hang on. Did she say _a_ winner?_

Hermione whisked around. Amongst the sea of red cards in various numeric values sat one black card. Hermione's eyes traveled slowly down the arm supporting the demure six of clubs. Down the fingers, down the forearm, over the elbow, across the bicep, up the neck to the eyes – the clear, blue eyes.

Malfoy.

XXX

Hermione stormed into the common room at 6:10 that night. Finding Malfoy not in the common room yet his bag open on the table, she threw her things down on the couch and pit her hands against the back of it. The door to Malfoy's room was ajar slightly. From inside, she heard heavy footsteps. Left, right, a closet door shutting, left again until finally.

Draco Malfoy came strutting out of his room. He had donned himself in his gray school pants, but taken off his sweater vest and button up shirt to reveal nothing but a crisp, white undershirt and his silver and green Slytherin tie. His hair had fallen a little and now nearly shielded the ice of his eyes.

Hermione vaulted over the couch, skirt flying up Draco noticed, and stomped over to him.

"_What_ the hell?" She yelled at him, her face dangerously close to his.

"I don't follow." His eyes looked amused at her rage, watching her as though she were a mildly interesting picture.

"You don't _follow_?" Her condescension nearly evaporated the word.

"Cupcakes, yes. You, no."

"What kind of stunt was that in class today?"

He pushed past her to sit on the opposite couch, throwing his long legs up on the coffee table. "I don't recall performing any great feats in the last twelve hours but please, enlighten me."

Hermione tossed her head. "Oh, I don't know, perhaps convincing the entire Logic class that we would be 'the Hogwarts revolution' and then screwing us all over with that damn black card? Does that ring a bell?"

"Oh yeah, I did do that didn't I?" His voice was thick with the act of remembering.

"Why would you do that?" Hermione's voice became shrill and high pitched as she yelled at him. "There are other people in that class that needed those points because they are going to die with the difficulty of the class. You don't need those points! How could you convince them of all that glory and then snatch it away from them like that? How could you be so cruel? How!" With each declaration, her voice rose another decibel until Draco was sure the rest of the castle could hear it.

"I didn't _do _anything. I did _not do_ something." His word games flavored his tongue well. He liked the taste of them.

"You did _do_ something! You took away the points and hope that people needed! Students needed those points and should have gotten them!"

"Ok," he threw back his head and adopted that maddening smirk, "I'm not really sure what you are mad about so I'm just going to guess. I would say that you find it annoying that I thought of a clever way to get all the points for myself before you did. And you're not really worried about the welfare of the rest of the students, you are just afraid that I might beat you in grades this term and that would put all your hard school work to shame."

Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Hermione's brain was slogging, as though through a marsh, to try to come up with a comeback.

Nothing.

A small chuckle broke the silence created by her stalling brain and she jerked to see Malfoy chuckling to himself, a piece of paper in hand.

"Don't feel bad Granger. I have that effect on people. You'll get used to it. Now sit your fine ass down. We have a prefect schedule to design."

XXX

**I'm sooooooo sorry I've been gone for so long! School was a bitch this year! I didn't have any time to write or anything. But now I have three weeks before GSA and I can give you beacoup de chapters ASAP!**


	8. Machines

So while watching Designed to Sell I had major writer's inspiration and as much as I wanted to see how hideous they could make

**So while watching **_**Designed to Sell**_** I had major writer's inspiration and as much as I wanted to see how hideous they could make the mirror-covered chimney, I just had to come upstairs and provide you with another fabulous installment. Enjoy.**

**IMPORTANT! Check out the contest at the bottom of the page. **

**Disclaimer: What does the writer own? As-olutely nothing! (God I love Rush Hour)**

XXX

"Ray, Amber. Hufflepuff." Hermione's eyes skimmed the biosheet in her hand. "Good with Charms and Potions. Odd combo. Free period is after lunch. Five O's, three E's. Where should she go?" Hermione's chocolate gaze shifted up to the man lying on his back in front of the fire. Her eyes skimmed down him. He had his hands behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles. The slightly awkward angle of his arms made his biceps strain in a particularly prominent fashion. Though she had seen him shirtless before – twice in fact – she still found the slice of skin revealed by the pull on his T-shirt incredibly enticing; especially bathed in firelight.

Jerking herself out of her reverie, she waited for his response. It didn't come.

She huffed slightly. "I realize it is a difficult thing to both think and talk at the same time, but if you wouldn't mind trying I would be eternally grateful."

He looked over at her. "Could you repeat the question?"

She frowned. "Where should Amber Ray go?"

"To hell."

Hermione shot a look at Malfoy. "Excuse me?"

He rolled over on his stomach to face her, the sudden movement disrupting peaceful bangs from his forehead. "You don't agree? I think it is a fine place for her and all her other immature little kin to go. It's warm and entertaining and I'm sure you can find a few prostitutes in one of the levels for – "

Hermione threw down her papers. "Could you be a bigger ass right now?"

He grinned. "As a matter of fact I could, but I will restrain myself on the pretense that any further aggravation of your high maintenance personality might just entice you into homicide." He paused, fake remembering something. "Then again, you aren't the homicidal type. You generally prefer to just remove a man's physical masculinity."

She made a face. "I find that removing a man's 'physical masculinity' as you called it, is the fastest way to take him down a few pegs by showing him that the woman always has the power in a relationship."

"If by power you mean the ability to hit a man with a duffle bag she calls a purse in public without getting arrested then yes, she does have it." He stood up, muscles bunching, and strode to his room.

"Where do you think you are going?" Hermione called at him. "We have a job to do!"

"I'll be back you psychopath. Don't worry." And he disappeared into his room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Hermione watched him go with a slight smirk of her own then returned to her work.

Five minutes later, Malfoy still hadn't returned. Hermione was a bit aggravated because this was supposed to be _their_ project not _her_ project. And since he hadn't done a wink of work on the thing all night, she decided to follow him just to annoy the heck out of him. She stood up and walked over to his room, carrying the half completed chart as she went.

"So I've decided that Amber is going to take third bell shift patrolling the north and east wing with Randal Holt. Next we have Mathew Pitch. From Ravenclaw with straight O's save DADA. He's free last bell so we could probably get him to do the night shift from six till ten on Tuesday's and Friday's. You agree?" She looked up to see Malfoy. Except – he wasn't there. "Malfoy?" She looked around the room. The bathroom door was open and sounds of movement came from within. Bracing herself to be treated to another gorgeous display of what a summer of Quidditch can do to you, she walked inside.

Malfoy was standing there, examining a spot on his face in the mirror in minute detail. "Are you always this needy for the company of others or am I just an exception?"

Hermione smirked to herself. "Your stimulating conversation keeps me breathless for more and five minutes without hearing the drone of your voice just about killed me. Plus," she snorted, "the door was open."

"You know," said Malfoy, pulling away from the mirror and turning to face her, "coming into a man's room uninvited, at night, and wearing only a thigh-length nightie and a blanket around your shoulders would produce some implications to anyone entering the room after you."

"Well, 99 of the people who would come in here would realize that I don't have same sex tendencies and therefore, no implications would be created." She looked down at the counter to see a can of muggle shaving cream and a razor. She looked back up at him, eyes sparking. "You shave! How cute! Do you have the edge blunted so that you can feel like a big boy now or do you actually happen to have some baby-fine hairs on your chin that hope to one day aspire to become recognizable facial hair?"

"I just love how warm and kind you are towards me. Really makes me feel special."

"I try my best. Now," she turned out of the bathroom and strode to his bed. She hopped onto it and sat leaning against one of the four posters surrounding the mattress.

"First you waltz into my room in skimpy lingerie, then you hop right into my bed without even asking. This could turn out to be a very good night for me."

"Shut up," said Hermione with out taking her eyes from the paper she was working on.

"Quite a witty comeback I must say."

Hermione looked up at him, ignoring the quip. "There are three more shifts to fill and six more people to fill them with." She proffered the paper to him. "Could you please help me? I'm desperate. And since I have done the majority of the work up till now I don't think it would kill you to help a bit."

"Actually on my last visit to the doctor he said that helping bitchy women was very hazardous to my health and I should avoid said interaction at all costs."

"Just take the damn thing." She looked about ready to throw it at him.

"Ok, ok. Let me see it." He took it from her. Sitting down at the desk in his room he propped his feet up and tilted back the chair in preparation to read. She scooted off the bed and hopped to the floor. He looked up at her.

"You're not leaving are you?" He sounded a bit more concerned then the occasion warranted.

"Sadly no. The headmaster ordered us to work on this as a team and as a team we shall. I am just going to get homework that I can do while you figure that out." She turned and skipped out of the room.

Draco chuckled a little to himself at her. Then turned back to the sheet in his hand.

Less then three minutes later, she came bounding back into the room with an armful of books in hand and dumped them on his bed. She spent a few minutes organizing them into piles then hopped on after them.

"So how does it work?" He asked, sounding slightly amused "This is my room and everything in here was designated to me yet I'm the one in the uncomfortable chair and you're the one faffing about on _my _comfortable bed?"

She shrugged. "I told you before. The woman _always_ has the power."

"This isn't power. This is deprivation."

"I never said you couldn't join me. There's room enough for two of us. See? A lovely square foot for you to sit down there by the bedpost. Meanwhile, I'll be up here with the forty-odd pillows."

Draco looked delighted. "This just gets better and better. First you waltz in in skimpy lingerie, then you hop on my bed, now you are asking me to join you. What's next?"

"Asking you to rip off my panties and ravish me like a dog. Just finish the chart, will you?"

Malfoy chuckled and looked away. "With that image in my head, gladly."

They hadn't been working five minutes when the sound of the portrait opening came from inside the common room. Both looked up and then at each other.

"You order room service?" Hermione asked him. Malfoy shook his head.

"Hermione?" It was Harry's voice, though by the sound of footsteps another person was with him, Ron most likely.

"In here Harry." Hermione could imagine what was going on between the two. They heard her voice coming from Malfoy's room and freak out and start running in three, two, one.

_Thump thump thump._ The door banged open and Ron and Harry came into the room looking as though they had just been scared shitless.

"Hermione!" They both looked around. Draco was sitting at the desk with the chair tilted back, looking at them amusedly. Hermione was sitting on the bed; legs folded neatly to one side, a textbook in one hand and a highlighting quill in the other. The colors of the room told the boys right away that this wasn't Hermione's room.

"Hermione what are you doing?" The boys looked horrified.

"I'm supervising." She looked at them sweetly.

"What the hell do you mean _supervising_?" They stared at her like she had another head.

"Yes," Malfoy chimed in. "That's a bit harsh on me."

"Shut it, snake," snarled Ron, looking at Malfoy as though he was trying to make him spontaneously combust with the sheer power of his gaze. Malfoy returned the look coolly, but his eyes held twice the fire Ron's did. To Ron's credit, he only slightly recoiled.

"What are you doing in _his_ room Hermione? It's, well, _his_." Harry stared at her, bewildered.

"I am perfectly aware whose room it is Harry," she said, still with that maddeningly sweet air.

"Well then why are you here?" Harry looked uncomfortably at her. "You weren't _doing _anything were you?"

Draco looked delightedly over at her. "See?" He said to Hermione. "Implications."

"I thought I told you to shut it," Ron growled again, even while Hermione grinned behind his back.

"Apparently I don't listen so well, do I? Should probably have that checked out."

Ron was about to say something when Hermione interrupted him. "I think all three of you should have your heads examined. In the mean time, did you want to talk to me boys?"

"Not with _him_ here." Ron looked on the verge of exploding.

"Very well." Hermione turned to Draco. "Can you behave yourself while I'm straightening out the situation with these two?"

He smirked up at her. "I will try my very best," he said, inclining his head.

She nodded in return, then turned and led the way out of the door, the two boys in tow.

Once outside, Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face the two of them.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Hermione hadn't seen him this angry since the Department of Mysteries.

"There's no need for such language Harry. I get your point just fine without it."

"You know, I don't think you do. This is _Malfoy_ we're talking about. The mean, nasty, ugly Malfoy we've put up with for the last six years. And here I come in and find you frolicking on _his _bed in _his _room in _that _outfit."

"You do realize you are not my parent and therefore have no control over what I do and say?" That might have been a mistake. Hermione realized the second after she said it.

Harry looked about to strangle her. Hermione even braced herself incase he tried to hit her or something. She didn't think he would, but she hadn't seen enough of him at this high an anger level to be exactly sure what he would do. He seemed to pull himself together though because in a much calmer voice he said,

"What are you thinking? He could have done anything to you. He could have kidnapped you or killed you or – I don't even know what but it's dangerous. I'm only saying this because I care about you. We both do. You're our greatest friend Hermione and we just want to make sure you're safe."

Hermione didn't say anything for a second. Then,

"I know you guys are trying to look out for me. But can you at least trust my judgment? My god, I'll be seventeen in March, don't you think I can look out for myself?"

The boys looked a bit awkward at this.

"Now, why did you come here?" She said it matter of factly, making it clear the conversation was over.

"Well, we just wanted to see how you were," Ron started.

"Real reason Ron." She sounded a bit aggravated.

"That is the real reason!" She scowled at them. "Ok fine, we need homework help. Advanced DADA."

She looked shocked. "That's it? You come over here and berate me for making a decision that I deemed okay and read me the riot act and now you want _homework help_? I'm sorry but this time no. Ask me tomorrow and maybe I'll have calmed down." She stepped back from them and folded her arms. "Now I think you need to go."

The boys looked astonished. "Hermione what the hell? You've always given us help in the past. Just because we're trying to look out for your best interest doesn't mean our grades should suffer. I mean come on!"

"So that's all I am to you? I big machine that you can feed homework into and I correct it then you hand it in to the teacher and get your ten out of ten? I'm sorry. But I've put up with this take, take, take relationship for long enough. Until you start figuring out how to give, I'm out." She turned to leave.

"Hermione!" She stopped.

"What?" She looked at the two of them.

"Please?"

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, then held out her hands.

"Oh my god, thank you. Thank you so much." They both produced the material from within robe pockets and stood while she silently scanned it.

A minute or two later, "Ron, number three is wrong. Vanishing spells don't work on boggarts. And Harry, all is good except number seventeen. Check the names of the four ways to deal with a Polok infestation."

She handed the papers back to them. Then folded her arms, a frown curving sumptuous lips downward. "From now on I suggest you learn how to give back the same amount as you take."

Harry looked sheepish. "How are we supposed to do that?"

"Think about the conversation here tonight. You'll find a way." And she turned and walked back in to Malfoy's room.

Harry grabbed her arm. "You're not going _back_ are you?"

She looked at him and pulled her arm out of her grip. "Find a way." Then she disappeared.

XXX

**Well that was a bit heavier then expected. But I feel that it worked well. Most of my favorite fanfictions are an excellent blend of humor and heavy. This had a bit of humor but the heavy will move the plot forward.**

**Bonus Challenge**** If anyone can find the special tool used as the beginning of a transition in this chapter, I'll let you chose ONE (minor) event that takes place in the future. I.e. if you want Malfoy to walk in on Hermione in a bathtub or Malfoy to catch Hermione doing something embarrassing I'll put it in. Just one guideline. No dancing to a specific song. I hate how that dates a story. It's a fairly minor tool but I was proud of it. When someone gets it, I'll post the next chappie.**

**Review my darlings!**


	9. Implications

**Hey everyone. Back am I. Congratulations to the lovely Dee who did indeed win the challenge. The transition was the mixed use of Draco and Malfoy when referring to sexy boy. Contact me my love so you can claim your prize! I have another contest in mind but don't know how I am going to execute it. I know this is a rather short chappie but I leave tomorrow! I hope you guys are okay with it! Enjoy my loves!**

**Also. In response to the comment about Hermione's birthday being in September, I know. I just wanted it to be in March for astrological reasons. Ridiculous I know but what can I say. ;)**

**Disclaimer: **_**Picture this being said by a small green man who lives alone in a swamp and is visited by a very ugly actor in need of a hair cut.**_** "Only the plot do I own."**

XXX

Draco listened quietly to the heated conversation going on outside his door. The paper he was supposed to be calculating lay forgotten and still in his lap.

"_What the _fuck_ was that?"_ Potter's voice came from the other side of the door, harsh and cold.

"_There's no need for such language Harry. I get your point just fine without it."_ Malfoy smirked quietly to himself. That was always Granger. She had a knack for patronization.

Knowing that Granger would be occupied at least another minute or two, Draco allowed himself a mental rundown of her person. He leaned back in his chair, springs creaking as they took the full weight of his muscle. Granger was a very unique creature. She was a mudblood, but was so damn proud of it she could easily pass for half-blood or greater. So much about her demeanor could have been straight out of a pureblood etiquette book. The satisfaction she derived from gaining the upper hand. The seductive way she carried herself through a room full of onlookers, hips swaying just a slight more then was natural, hair creating wind for itself, bosom so often nearly escaping the restraints that held it in place. Now having spent several days in her company, he could not deny a certain physical attraction evoked by her presence. Her air was disturbingly alluring. He hadn't ever been so unsettled by a woman so quickly.

He heard her coming back up the stairs and turned his attention to what her remembered of her figure to her corporeal figure. Her hair seemed to have grown wilder in the time she had been absent. The flame of anger had caught in her eyes and her air was one of intense distraction. She walked around the bed and sat down on it facing Malfoy, though not looking at him. He swung around in his chair to face her, left arm resting lightly while right was taught with the support of his chin.

"Sounded like pretty Potter has graduated to big boy words now." His eyes held a playful malice.

She appeared to focus her thoughts enough to give him her temporary attention.

"I'm down there getting walked on by my two comrades in arms and the best you can come up with is a second year quip about _big boy words_?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call it being walked on. You sure gave them more of your tongue then I'm sure they've ever experienced. Well, Potter, certainly. Though, there's a good chance Weasel has enjoyed quite a bit of your tongue in your career here."

Her head flew up to meet his face. He smirked up at her, the brick wall behind his eyes falling just a hair so show her his satisfaction. Hermione snapped. She grabbed the feather-filled sack to her left, elegant nails digging deep into the green tapestry woven with silver. Moving with surprising speed given her previous paralysis, she leapt the distance to Malfoy's chair and slammed the pillow into his face. Caught by surprise at the unexpected animosity, he didn't have time to regain his balance.

Malfoy and the chair fell backwards with a crash. Doing his best to make an attractive landing, Draco twisted mid-flight. Timing the movement perfectly, he rolled over one muscled shoulder to land seated on the floor. However, his aesthetic gymnastics were not fast enough to escape the wrath of Hermione.

She took him down with a swift tackle, using momentum to her advantage. She rolled him over and pinned him to the ground by the waist. Straddling him, she savagely resumed her attack with the pillow. Back and forth, back and forth, Hermione struck Malfoy across the face with the cushioned weapon. In a vain attempt to shield himself from her blows, Draco threw his hands up in front of his face.

"God damn it woman! A man usually has to cheat on his wife with the queen to deserve punishment like this!" Hermione was slightly distracted by his talking and Draco pounced on the opportunity. Surging upward in a burst of energy, he tore the pillow from her hands and tossed it away.

He seized each of her wrists in a vice-like grip then sent her tumbling backward. He landed on top of her, his larger mass pinning her small frame to the floor. She struggled for a moment, then quieted. At last having her stationary, he looked into her face, mere inches from his own.

"Bad girl," he whispered, voice husky from the fight. He heard her breath catch a little in her throat. "You're not to do that anymore."

He looked down at her, flames still licking her eyes.

"Get off me," she hissed, baring her teeth in an almost feline snarl.

"You see, I would," Draco said, looking skyward as if to contemplate his answer, then bringing the icy gaze back to her own, "but then, the last time you were free to roam around for yourself you attacked me then viciously threw me backwards over a chair. So I think I'll just keep you here until you can show me that you can behave yourself."

"Let me up!" She spat, her struggling resumed. Her wrists twisted and fought under his powerful hold.

"No no no," his fingers laced through hers and drove her wrists into the carpet. "Behave."

She stopped struggling with a huff and looked up at him. She could feel every inch of his conditioned weight pressing against her. It was an odd sensation. Though she loathed the man pinning her to the floor, the pressure was not entirely unpleasant. _No. No. No. It's horrid. This man is an abomination. Damn him!_

Realizing she had stopped fighting his grip, he asked "Are you ready to behave now?"

She bit back another fierce hiss and forced a sweet smile instead. "Yes. Now, may I please get up?"

Malfoy rolled off her and the pressure lifted. She was a bit surprised at the slight regret running through her. She pushed herself to a sitting position. She waited a moment, then rose to her feet. Malfoy, already standing, was watching her amusedly, as a cat might watch a trapped mouse.

But Hermione was through with fighting. Her momentary weakness was brought on by the high-tension situation she had been placed in. She walked toward the bed, carefully keeping her eyes averted from his gaze. She heard his heavy boots tread softly to the chair and pick it up. The springs creaked as they once again were subjected to his weight. The silence between them was very apprehensive, as though the room was full of hydrogen and a third party held a match.

Draco watched Hermione silently, smirking to himself at her sudden lack of control. "You know," he said suddenly and the words were a harsh, jagged antithesis to the previous poised silence, "our little implicative list is growing."

Hermione looked up from the homework she was pointedly not doing. "What list and how so?"

Malfoy leaned back in the chair, shaking his flaxen bangs out of his eyes. "First," he said, ticking off a finger, "You waltz into my room scantily clad. Second you hop on to my bed. Third you invite me to join you. And just now we spent the better part of ten minutes rolling around on the floor. Imagine how any given person would react to such antics."

However much she tried to kid herself, Hermione's anger hadn't quite died yet. "What ever gave you the idea that those were implicative in anyway?"

Draco looked slightly surprised, but hid it almost as soon as the expression appeared. "How could any of the frolicsome behave I previously stated be anything _but_ implicative?"

The light of debate was kindling in Hermione's eyes. "Are you really going to start this with me?"

"I have other ideas of things we can do."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Very well. In response to being scantily clad, these are just my normal pajamas. Nothing outrageously alluring. Any female could and would attest to that in a ministry court room – "

Draco interrupted her. "Why could a male not attest to it? It would seem the most fair to let the opposing side choose a party to determine the sex appeal of your nightly wardrobe."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the amusing lofty diction. "A male cannot possible attest to anything because males between the ages of fifteen and fifty find anything that shows off at least three inches of leg attractive there for your opinion can not be relied upon as objective."

"Touché." Malfoy conceded defeat of that portion of the argument with a nod.

"To continue my argument against your list. I did not hop onto your bed for any other reason then to give my self a decent place to work other then the floor. Thus, no implications conjured up there." She paused to see if he would fight her on that one. When he did not, she continued. "Thirdly, my asking you to join was not a come on in any way. It was," she said, voice slightly raised in response to his indignant grunt, "merely the lady-like thing to do. You sitting in an uncomfortable chair and me sitting on a comfortable bed, half of which I was not using. There was no reason for me not to offer it to you, so I did."

Hermione stopped speaking again, waiting to see if he would say anything. He did not. Her temper was flaring again. Why wasn't he fighting back? What was he trying to do? What did he want her to say? _What was he waiting for?_

"Now Granger, while you make decent points with the three arguments that you have explained thus far, there is no possible way that our scuffle on the floor can be rationalized to the point that it is devoid of implications." He pulled the schedule sheet she had forced him to finish off his desk and looked over it one last time. "So, to spare you the pain and humiliation of you even trying to justify our actions, I will just end the conversation right now so that you don't have to suffer." He stood, long legs straightening as they took the full weight of their owner. Striding over to her on the bed, he proffered the paper to her. She took it silently and glanced down. The names of the last few prefects were organized and put into the schedule just as they should.

She looked up and he was striding away from her in the direction of his closet. She watched him intently, though pretending to be reading the paper. He pulled off the undershirt he was wearing and tossed it aside onto a growing pile of clothing. Though she expected to see him replace the shirt with another. She inhaled softly as he turned around and walked away from the closet.

One would think that after two and a half shirtless demonstrations from him she would fail to be enticed by his body, but no. He began gathering up the books on his desk and the floor and stacking them into a neat pile.

As he moved the heavy volumes around the desk, straining and reaching for them at awkward angles his arms pulled and strained at the added weight. Hermione found herself fascinated by the beauty and control of him.

"Is this ever going to stop or should I just stand in front of you naked until you pronounce yourself satisfied?"

Hermione jumped at his voice and looked up at him. He hadn't looked over at her and was continuing to organize his desk. She could tell a smirk played on his face even through his profile.

"I was just wondering what you could have possibly done to yourself to get in such shape since all I have seen of you is an incredible addiction to laziness."

He turned to her, a bit taken aback. Hermione looked at him sweetly. She hadn't tried this angle yet and was amusedly watching him for a reaction. He regained himself quickly.

"Funny. I was just wondering what genetic pool one of your blood relations dipped into to produce such curves since all I have seen of your family is straight up and down."

They stared at each other silently. Neither moved. Neither made a sound. Their eyes locked in a death gaze without blinking and without shifting. Not a muscle twitched. Not even the owl in the corner made hoot.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the spell was broken. Malfoy strode to Hermione in three powerful steps. Before she could react, before she could even process what was going on, his mouth was on hers.

He pulled her up and gripped her tightly. His lips moved hard on hers with bruising precision and strength. One powerful arm was snaked around her slim waist. The other cradled the back of her skull, drawing her closer to him. He held her still, crushed against him, immovable by both force and choice.

Hermione was lightheaded. The feel of his lips moving, caressing, manipulating hers was causing a thick fog to fill her brain. She couldn't think, couldn't react, couldn't move. She could only _feel. Feel_ the lips so beautifully weakening her. _Feel _the biceps holding her firmly against his chest. _Feel_ his hot exhalation on her cheek bones. _Feel everything._

He released her, unclenching his arms and spreading them. She stumbled back against the bed, left hand reaching back to support her, right wrist coming up to touch her bottom lip. Her chest heaved, tight nightdress threatening to burst with each intake of air.

Draco stood there, cocky as ever, eyes aflame with the heat of his action. His lips parted slightly, ragged breath flowing from within their depths. He spoke quietly, his voice soft, husky, wanting.

"Don't test me."

Turning away from her, he strode across to the bathroom, long legs carrying him to his destination faster then she would have thought possible. A mere second after his figure dissappeared through the door frame the door slammed violently on her line of sight..

Hermione stared at the closed door for a long moment. He didn't come back out. Silently, she gathered up her books and quietly slipping out of the room.

**Ha ha! How fun right? I wasn't going to throw anything like this in yet but I figured having it so early on in the relationship might be fun. There wont be another one for a loooooooooonnnnggg time though. So I hope you're patient! Review my loves!**


	10. Philosophers

**Also, have a fun little idea for a new steamy one-shot coming up. Came across the beginnings of it I wrote YEARS ago while cleaning my room. If you are all good and go read Death and Taxes a bit, maybe I'll post it for you. Bye lovies!**

**Disclaimer: Nada. Though Draco's still lookin pretty tasty.**

XXX

The door slammed violently behind him. Draco Malfoy pit both hands against the smooth marble countertop in the bathroom. He let his head fall down, stretching the tight cords running from his neck to his back, easing away the tension there. His eyes fell closed, shielding their azurite brilliance behind the thin membrane.

What had he just done? He had kissed Granger. _Kissed_ Granger. Locked his lips with hers. Held her figure. Crushed her to him. Cradled her passionately. This was forbidden. Forbidden by his laws, his customs, his better judgment, _him_. Every nerve in his head was screaming at him, cursing him, damning him to hell for what he had done; for what he had felt; for what he feels.

He spun around and leaned backwards against the sink, head thrown back exposing vulnerable flesh, eyes still closed, breathing deeply. He was out of control. He hadn't been around her more then three days and he had just – just _done it_. Just let himself go in less then a heart beat.

He remembered his words to her. _Don't test me._ What did that mean? Why would she be testing him? Why would those words have come out of his mouth? He was as mystified by them as he knew she would be.

He smiled slightly, eyes still closed, remembering the feel of her lips on his, curve of her chest pressing against him, he arch of her back under his fingers. Though he was the aggressor, he knew that had she been less surprised, less caught off guard, she would have sent him to his knees.

Crystalline eyes opened with a snap. This disconcerting notion made him force the thoughts back down into their black hole. He could _not_ let her know what she had done to him. _Never_

XXX

Thee door shut quietly behind her. Hermione Granger slid down against the polished wooden door to his room. She let her head fall back, stretching her beautiful throat to the heavens. Her eyes slipped closed, shielding their amber luminosity behind the palest flesh.

What had she just done? She had kissed Malfoy. _Kissed_ Malfoy. Sealed her lips with his. Held by his arms. Crushed by his embrace. Cradled by his desire. This was forbidden. Forbidden by her friends, her beliefs, her better judgment, _her_. Every fiber of her being was on fire, scorching her, burning her to hell for what she had done; for what he had done; for what she had _let him do_.

She threw herself forward and lay prone on the carpet, hair falling forward to expose the silky smooth skin of her nape, eyes closed, breathing slowly. She was out of control. She hadn't been in contact with him for more then three days and she had just – just _let it happen_. Just let herself go in less then a wink.

She remembered his words to her. _Don't test me._ What did that mean? Why would she be testing him? Why would those words have come out of his mouth? She was mystified by them, as she knew he wanted her to be.

She smiled slightly, eyes still closed, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, the hardness of his muscle crushing against her, the cords of his neck under her touch. Though he was the aggressor, she knew that had she been less surprised, less caught off guard, she could have sent him to his knees.

Russet eyes opened with a snap. This disconcerting notion made her force the thoughts back down in her mind. She could _not_ let him know what he had done to her. _Never._

XXX

Hermione woke to brilliant light pouring in her window and a large orange lump draped across her abdomen. She stretched her arms above her head, dainty fingers curling in protest to the pain shooting through stiff limbs. The animal atop her stomach groaned at the movement of his pillow.

"Good morning handsome." Hermione scratched the cat behind his ears. "It's Saturday." Her voice was a high-pitched coo. "Today, we are going to order up breakfast. Then we are going to spend the morning writing essays. Then we'll get lunch somehow and spend the afternoon reading. Then we'll eat dinner and spend the evening free. How's that sound?" The cat purred loudly. Whether it was because he agreed with the plan or because he was thoroughly enjoying his aural massage, Hermione couldn't tell.

"Ok then." She sat up and scooped the cat into her arms, cradling him to her like an infant. Clambering awkwardly out of bed, she walked with him to the closet, fussing over him the whole time. Upon entering the closet, she set him up on a cat bed she had placed on an awkward shelf about chest height.

Turning to her clothing, she selected a white spring skirt with a sunny yellow shirt and white Ked sneakers. After attiring herself and dabbing on just a little make up, she picked up the cat again and headed out in the common room.

As she expected, Draco Malfoy was stretched out on one of the couches. His lengthy legs were crossed at the ankles and a thick leather-bound book was clasped in his hands. Gold writing adorned the spine, spelling out a title that Hermione could not read at the odd angle of her approach.

It had been three days since their oral escapades and they had yet to say a single word to each other. Most of their time was spent in an awkward silence, both carefully avoiding the gaze of the other. Hermione for her part hadn't stopped stewing about it for a second since it happened. She suspected Malfoy of the same mindset, though had failed to ask him seeing as that would violate their carefully crafted silence. Hermione was feeling bold this morning, however.

She plopped down on the couch directly across from him, cat in hand, and proceeded to stretch out along its length. Malfoy had left his bag resting at the far end for the better part of two days. Though it was not particularly comfortable, she laid her head upon for the sheer convenience of driving him mad.

"That would be my bag you're using as a head rest," he said without looking over the top of his book.

"Well it has been laying here for so long that I quite thought it was one of the pillows." Hermione could read the spine of the book now. _The Virtue of Selfishness_. She snorted at the irony of the title, causing Malfoy to lower the tome slightly and stare at her interrogatively.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your oh-so-lady-like cackle?" His eyes sparkled with the subtle insult. Hermione was not to be over thrown.

"Just the pure satire of the title of your book. Very appropriate, though I would think one as selfish as you would not need an entire book to help you justify your bastardly personality."

"If you must know, and I know you do, it is an excellent read by a muggle philosopher whose books all revolve around this same basic concept."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You mean the concept of not sharing anything with anyone and hording all you steal to yourself for the betterment of your dining dishes?"

"No," he said calmly, his tone as much as an insult as the string of ice she had just thrown at him, "the concept that when the government is corrupt, you are entirely entitled to forget the rest of the world's well being and only look out for your own ass."

"Interesting," said Hermione, not sounding interested at all. "This _philosopher_ is muggle did you say?" Her tone mocked him, trying to get him to fight back.

"Yes, born out of Russia."

"I thought that your _other_," she laid a delicate stress on the word, "virtues did not agree with any association with muggles."

"You mean the deatheaters?" His tone mocked her. "No, they don't agree with it. But how are they to know what I read at school? Besides, I'm sure they wouldn't object to the ideas expounded upon in this particular piece of work."

"Now, having never met them, I'd be inclined to disagree with you. From what I've seen of them, they don't seem in too much of a rush to stuff their brains with the ramblings of an old muggle and his philosophy on the government. But go ahead and believe what you want. Who am I to crush your fantasy?" Hermione rolled onto her back, giving an air of indifference.

"Actually the author is a woman and she was in her twenties when she wrote most of her work." He smirked. "I think that hardly qualifies her as 'an old muggle' though if she looks anything like you, I'd have to agree with the old part."

Hermione flew up and whipped to face him. He had graduated from a smirk to the full-blown grin on his face.

"How _dare _you!" Her livid fury radiated from her.

"I dare because I can." The simplicity of the answer left no room for a retort so in answer she fell back against the sofa, arms and legs folded tightly, glaring across the coffee table at him.

The minutes ticked by in silence. Hermione didn't move. Malfoy sat across from her, still reading, and apparently unaware of the fury still rushing out of her. He turned a page casually.

"Now Granger," he said lowering the book and setting it across his thighs, "I know you have things stewing about in that little head of yours. We must have none of this awkwardness between us. Come! Come!" He punctuated each 'come' with a clap of his hands. "Out with it! This year is supposed to be about friendship and trust between our houses. What is nagging at your mind child?"

Hermione scowled at him. Though his words sounded kind, the manner in which he said them was cool and mocking. She suspected it was more out of a desire to amuse himself then to make her mad. Never the less, it didn't fail to annoy her.

"Shut up." She continued to glare at him, eyes smoldering softly.

"You're no fun." He pretended to pout, though it only served to make her madder. He dropped his hands to his sides, shaking back his platinum tendrils. Picking up the book again, he said under his breath, but just loud enough for her to hear, "My mouth does have such an amazing effect on women."

Hermione, who had been dutifully examining her star-studded socks, snapped to attention at these words. "I beg your pardon! If you are refering to our - well not quite a kiss - earlier, I will have you know -"

"By definition, a kiss is when the lips of one person intertwine with the skin or lips of another. So that _was_ a kiss." He smiled slightly to himself.

"Ha!" She tossed her head to the side, looking into the ashes of the now smothered fire. A minute passed, in which neither of them moved. Though he had come to the end of his page, Draco did not turn it. He was waiting to see what she would do.

At last, she turned her head slowly to him, smirking "Well I suppose you are so wholly undesireable to the female population that the only manner of acquiring interactions with a girl would be to force yourself on her." She laughed. "I pity you."

He let out a huff of laughter. "Pity me, Granger? Correct me if I'm wrong but to my knowledge the only male attention you've been able to get is Weasle-king and Victor the bird man." He grinned. "So from where I'm sitting, you seem like a much more piteable creature then myself, though I must say I'm not entirely surprised."

This time, he did not 'fail' to notice her rage. Her chest swelled with anger, the smoldering resentment that had resided in her eyes for the past quarter of an hour caught again and roared into pure, fiery wrath.

She expelled her breath in a great, whooshing gasp. Words seem to utterly fail her with the precocious manner of his reply. Her mouth was parted slightly, breath flowing ragged between full lips. Her hands clenched into the surface of the couch, as if searching for something to anchor herself to the physical world. She sat there for a full five minutes, slowly regaining her composure.

At last she managed to speak. The words were a bit breathy and slightly out of control. "I will not forget this. This _will_ come back to you, _Draco Malfoy_. How _dare_ you."

He looked at her, straight, pure eye contact. The retort came so easy and so willingly he almost surprised himself.

"_I dare because I can._"

XXX

**Muahahahaha!! I know this is a REALLY short chappie but I just couldn't stand to add anything else after that last line! I mean…how do you just keep going with that? HOW? So even though this is short I'll do my very best to update before Sunday. I love you all my dears! Review!**

**Also, yes that was a bit of Randroid fan work in the middle. I can't help myself! I'm reading ****_The Fountainhead_**** at the moment! My God. That book needs to have a whole damn RELIGION created around it. ah… Love. So much fun. Review my pretties!******

**Edit: I apologize for my not correctly crediting the Mummy in my story. I have changed the lines accordingly.**


	11. Cascades

**Hello all my lovelies! I am SOOOO sorry I haven't updated in forever! School sucks and I can't wait to be out. But I was watching a romantic movie last night (_A Room with a View_. Incidently amazing. Go watch.) and feeling sad and needing an ego boost. So I went and read all your wonderful reviews. Actually it had the opposite effect. I just felt bad that I hadn't updated in so long. So here you go! My creative train is chugging so I'm gonna try to have more up for you today if not tomorrow. The next bit should be exciting. Review lovelies!**

**Disclaimer: author (n): 1) a person who writes something 2) a person who uses hot fanfiction characters in her own story and still owns nothing but the plot.**

Hermione sat in her room quietly, arms wrapped around a pink stuffed rabbit and Crookshanks lounging luxuriously at the foot of her bed. She had been frozen in this stance for the better part of an hour. The cogs in her brain were nearly worn out from the myriad of thoughts that had meandered across her mind. She'd been in her room since class ended at noon, not knowing whether he had returned himself, but avoiding him in any case. What was this year going to do to her? She had to admit intellectual banter was infinitely preferable to the conversation of Harry and Ron and, on occasion, even Ginny. Yet, damn it all this was _Malfoy_. The sneering, smirking, torturous fiend she had avoided like the plague since first year.

She suddenly moved, flinging the rabbit away from her. She swung her legs around and planted them firmly on the floor. She strode to the window, pulling back the heavy drapery to look outside. The sun was half-angle in the sky, crawling slowly toward the horizon. She checked the clock. It read three-thirty.

She had plenty of time to wander the grounds. Her schedule was clear for the afternoon and her homework load was surprisingly light. A walk would do her good and an hour or so with her favorite book would be infinitely beneficial.

She skipped to her closet, thinking about proper wandering outfit. Black robes were fine for everyday wear, but the thick crepe would be heavy and cumbersome on the grounds. From the mass of hanging fabric, she withdrew a knee-length cotton dress, white with teal flowers and a teal ribbon adorning the waist. She stepped into it and fastened the tie behind her back. She slipped into white flats and grabbed a light sweater in case of a cool evening. At last leaving the closet, she stood looking around her room, wondering what to bring with her. She contemplated her current book, the ever-romantic _Tales of Ryce Cove_. However, with so much on her mind, she couldn't possibly ingest literature at present.

So with only the sweater, she left her room in search of the great outdoors.

XXX

Draco Malfoy stretched cat-like on the embroidered green sofa in the Slytherin common room. He hadn't been in this part of the castle since the start of term. Blaise sat across from him, draped across a high backed arm chair. Pansy lay on the floor with her legs resting on Draco's couch. Her skimpy skirt fell up to reveal a black garter that, despite its' obvious sex-appeal, did nothing to entice Draco's eye to it. Crabbe and Goyle were off in a corner sleeping with their fat heads lolling back on their respective necks.

The eerie green light filtering through the windows was less familiar to Draco on this visit and gave the impression of squalor and decay instead of the old power and dominance it used to hold for him.

"So, Draco. How's the head job suiting you? The mudblood bitch given you any shit yet? Or has she just been sleeping 'round with Potter and Weasel?" Blaise's nasal voice rang in the room surprisingly loud. Draco winced slightly at the vulgarity of his words.

"Is that necessary?"

"What?" Blaise looked taken aback.

"All that language. We've already established we hate them but honestly, you sound like a first year that just learned a new word." Draco stopped there.

"Drake, what's gotten into you?" Pansy looked up at him from the floor, her white cotton shirt was open to the fourth button and the full expanse of her cleavage was displayed to him distastefully. "You always were in on the mudblood trash talk before. She hasn't been getting you off or anything has she?" She and Blaise laughed raucously. Draco stood up, his anger palpable.

"My god you two. Grow up. No the Granger bitch hasn't been anywhere near my bed and she hasn't been bothering me either. I'll be back when you two decide you're seventeen and not twelve."

He picked up his broomstick, which he'd brought to take to the broom shed, and left the room, the protestations of the others ringing in the air behind him.

XXX

Hermione had made her way around the east side of the castle and turned her path toward a beautiful grotto on the far end of the lake. As she walked, she skipped a little delighted gait, glorying in the fresh air and the light breeze that lifted her skirt away from her legs.

She hummed lightly, a classy tune with a mournful tinge. _How wonderful to be alive,_ she thought, sidestepping around a swampy patch of grass. _Wind, air, a glorious sunset._

She finally arrived at her destination. It was her favorite place on the grounds. Out of the forbidden forest, a stream ran clear and cool over the land. As it exited the forest, it flowed down a rock waterfall and fed the lake in a torrent of splashing droplets and foam. Surrounding the stream, a small forest about half a mile wide and deep surrounded the expanse of stream connecting the forest to the lake. This was the only forest on the grounds the students were allowed to enter, though most didn't because of the proximity to the forbidden forest.

Hermione took off her shoes when she entered. The entire ground was covered with soft moss and the few boulders around the way were likewise painted with a green carpet. The trees were old, thick, and spaced generously, though close enough that one could still imagine oneself in an enchanted forest clearing with fairies and gnomes. Hermione made her way through the light foliage, brushing aside ferns and colorful flowers.

After a minimal time of walking and humming, she at last came upon the stream. It was a beautiful sight. The rays of the dying sun pierced the trees, making the crystal clear water sparkle like precious jewels. The bed of the stream was covered with rocks as ancient as the castle, which protruded from the glimmering surface providing perfect footholds for leaping along the riverbed.

Slipping off her shoes, Hermione held them in one hand and stepped carefully onto the first rock, testing its' stability. She slid delicately from rock to rock, following the meandering water. As the stream came to an end, it transformed into a twenty foot wide rushing sea of glass that spilled elegantly over the rocks. In the very center of the falls, a large, flat rock rose a foot above the level of the water. It was large enough for two grown men to sit on and stable enough as well.

Hermione stopped on her last rock and positioned her self for the jump. Pushing forward, she flew over the gap and landed delicately, if not heavily, on the vantage point. She looked out over the grounds, glorying in the view of the perch. Inhaling the fresh evening air, she sat, legs hanging over the edge, mocking the water that tumbled into the black depths.

XXX

Draco Malfoy breathed heavily, sweat dripping from his angled brow. He pulled his broom around violently, surging forward in a burst of speed after the bewitched tennis ball he was chasing. As he gained on it, it dipped abruptly. He followed it, forcing the broom into a beautiful dive racing the ground. He reached out a hand, straining against the tendency to fall. At the last second, he grasped his target, pulling his broom straight and tumbling sideways onto the turf.

He lay on his back a moment, allowing the minor victory of his catch to overwhelm him momentarily. _Stupid ball_, he thought. _I spend all my energy chasing you only to realize you are just a damn toy_. Angry now, he stood up with his broom and strode to the locker room. He hated the showers in there, but he felt to hot to wait until he returned to the common room. Granger might be there in any case and give him some shit about it. He walked into the communal shower, stripped off his clothes, and stepped under the hot stream.

He let out a sigh, pitting his hands against the shower wall for support. The hot water felt good. The sparkling droplets spiraled down his muscled legs, traced the lines in his back, danced up and around his muscles, down his spine, along the scar – that scar.

"Draco! No Draco! Go! Get out!" A blinding flash of orange light threw him against the wall. He crumpled, pain in his arm. A high pitched scream rang through the hall and Draco flung himself forward into –

He snapped his head up, crystalline eyes flying open and shutting out the memory. He finished his shower quickly and left the locker room.

The night was beautiful. The final rays of the sun streaked the sky with colored spears. In between the spears, the stars sparkled at him, shining eternally. He had originally intended to leave his broom in the broom shed, but instead he straddled it once more and leapt into the air.

He soared up over the edge of the stadium, out over the grounds, reveling in the crisp wind drying his hair. He let out a great shout, high above the ground, freedom at its most complete. Yet as he gloried in his life, he heard a faint cry. Looking down, far down, he saw a small figure at the edge of the lake, arms waving at a small dot moving towards the castle doors.

XXX

Hermione had been sitting on her rock for a long while, taking in the beautiful scenery. But as it was now getting to be dark, she figured she should head back to the castle. Standing up, she turned back to her path, searching for the rock from which she had initially sprung. But it wasn't there. Only the rippling expanse of dark water met her eyes. Frantically she reached out with her hand, feeling for the rock. To her horror, she discovered that she had dislodged it with the force of her leap and that it now lay comfortably nestled about eight inches below the surface of the water.

Frantically, she stood and turned out toward lake. She looked down, wondering if she could jump into the dark water. Frightening images unwound like thread in her mind's eye. Jagged rock piercing her body, neck snapping as it crashed into a solid bottom, foot catching in a crevice at the bottom of the lake and water filling her lungs with its' poisonous wetness.

Discounting that idea as a last resort, she turned her gaze to the grounds around her. She spotted two figures halfway between herself and the castle doors. Straining her eyes, she saw that they were Harry and Ron. Joyously, she called to them and waved her arms violently to get their attention.

They didn't hear her. Annoyed, she tried harder, yelled louder, but in vain. They couldn't hear her over their own conversation.

Draco Malfoy flew lower, interest piqued by the stranded individual perched on the rock in the waterfall. He shifted his weight and let the broom drop a few more feet or so. He could make out a white sundress and dark hair hanging low. Her arms waved violently then dropped in defeat. He dropped again. Something about the presence of a man hanging fifty feet over her head made her turn and look at him. It was Hermione Granger.

Hermione looked up and to her utter embarrassment, saw that the man hanging above her was none other than blonde headed, blue eyed, hard muscled Malfoy. She felt the color rise in her cheeks. Determined to appear dignified, she sat down quickly, smoothing her skirt over her knees and fixing her gaze on a tree some hundred yards away so as not to have to look at him.

"Can I help you, milady?" His voice was deceptively sweet, masking his utter amusement at her predicament.

"Thank you I am just fine." Hermione determinedly kept her nose pointed at the distant tree.

"Well, I don't mean to contradict you miss but it seems you've gotten yourself stuck." His insolence was thick upon his words.

She chanced a glance at him. "I was merely taking in the landscape. It's a refreshing pastime." Hermione feared she would melt into the lake from her humiliation.

"At this hour?" He chuckled. "How were you planning to get down?"

Hermione whipped around to look at him, then regained her composure. "I was planning to jump into the lake and swim ashore. The water should be quite fine this evening." Even as the words left her mouth, she heard the feebleness of her excuse.

"Well," said Draco, in a perfect imitation of a Renaissance farm boy giving country advice to a noble-woman, "I'm not sure if you are aware, but the lake is at its shallowest at this end. The rocks are barely eight feet under the surface."

She was silent. No reply sprang to her lips. "I know." She said finally, cringing at the ignorant sound of her retort.

Malfoy abruptly ended the charade. "Oh come on Granger. We both can see you're in a heap of shit here with no way out. Get off your damn high horse and let me help you."

Her eyes flashed and her mouth opened in a snarl. "Excuse me Malfoy! But I didn't ask for your help! You come in here presuming you'll be my knight in shining armor and whisk me off to a castle in the clouds! Well thank you but no thank you. I'm perfectly capable of getting myself out of this. Good evening to you sir." She crossed her arms huffily, turning back to her tree, and begging he would leave quickly.

"Hermione…" His voice was soft, gentle, quite unlike his previous tone.

She turned back to him. He was hovering over the rock at waist height, body slack with the confidence of his broom skills. But his hand was held out to her, palm up, a silent invitation to her. She looked from his hand to his eyes, blue and brilliant, and saw the truth there, a kindness she had never seen before.

And she stood, dusting off the back of her dress, and placed her hand in his.

**YAY!!! Sexiness!!! I'm writing the next chapter as we speak! Review my loves!**


	12. Balconies

**Oh my! What muses stir within me on this most wonderful of wonderful days? I give you TWO chapters to devour. I must say I like this one. I give it to you mostly because I felt bad that there wasn't a whole lot of sizzle in the last one. More character development then anything. I know this one is short - my shortest chapter - but hopefully you'll see that adding anything frivolous at the end would totally kill the mood. I'll do my best to update as often as I can and I promise I won't let a whole year and a half go by next time.**

**Disclaimer: Ok, the amount of sexy fiction boys I don't own is really starting to make me mad. Almost as mad as the fact that they are not real.**

She placed her hand in his and began to move to sit behind him. But he tugged gently, halting her progress.

"Not on this model." He gestured at the broom. "She'll buck you right off if you sit behind me."

Surprised for a moment, Hermione obediently redirected her course toward the front of the broom. She gracefully swung her leg over the handle and adjusted her skirt as she sat. Unexpectedly, Malfoy's arm snaked around her waist, the length of it completely encasing her ribcage.

"Put your hands my arm," he whispered right next to her ear. The sweep of his breath jolted her stomach more then she would have guessed.

Angry at her reaction she asked "Why?"

She could almost hear the eye roll. "God Granger. So you don't interfere with the directional commands the broom receives."

Huffing a little, she obeyed him, again, placing her hands on the forearm belting her to him. His skin was warm under her touch. She subtly ran her hands along it under the pretense of adjusting her position. In actuality, she wanted to feel the cords and sinew that held him together. As she did so, he simultaneously pulled her closer into him, pressing the soft curve of her back into the hardness of his chest that she could feel even through his t-shirt. Her fingers tightened slightly in response.

She felt him rest his chin just above her left shoulder. With the corresponding arm, he reached in front of her to steer the broom. "Hold on." He pushed off gently from the rock. She looked down and saw the safety and stability of the rock disappear beneath her. Her white ballet flats threatened to fall away into the dark, still water below. With the slightest of tugs on the handle, they rose quickly in to the air, soaring high enough to fly over the towers of the school. The wind whipped her hair back from her face, trailing over Malfoy's shoulder and assaulting him with the scent.

Hermione let out a small squeak of fright and turned her face hard away from the sight of the ground moving so far beneath her. Ideas of falling, plummeting to the earth filled her with fear. He felt her fear and shifted his shoulders slightly, readjusting his arm cinched around her waist. The confidence in his movement brought on her own. She lifted her head and looked out at the landscape. Though she was pinned to Malfoy, she couldn't deny the beauty of the scenery. The final rays of the sun had turned to a rich purple and the moon, nearly full, bathed the grounds in milky light. The tops of the trees glowed silver in the twilight, bringing to mind all the magic contained in the beautiful castle.

They glided silently through the sky, Draco holding the broom remarkably steady given his aggressive displays during Quidditch season. Hermione's heart rate elevated with each passing moment. The closeness of his body to hers was becoming almost too much for her to handle. She shivered from the cool air and the thought equally. Feeling the shudder against him, Draco pulled her still tighter, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder, enveloping her frame with his own larger one.

At last, at long bittersweet last, they arrived at the balcony outside his window. Malfoy skillfully maneuvered the vehicle down, setting it gently in the middle of the stone slabs. The broom hovered at such a level so his feet were flat on the ground while her toes barely brushed the earthen tiles. However he did not immediately let go and she did not immediately struggle. For a moment in time they sat, silent, pressed hard against each other, both uncertain, neither wanting to let go. Hermione closed her eyes, thinking how nice he felt, how nice she felt being against him. A brief flash back to their kiss crossed her mind. Then, before she could stop it, her imagination superimposed that memory on this one. Images erupted uncontrollably. She saw herself turning and kissing him, pulling him to the ground with her, the gentle power of his hands on her body, her head thrown back in ecstasy as he moved his form against her –

Her eyes flew open with a gasp and she snapped out of her thoughts with an abrupt jolt. Wrenching herself from his grasp, she flung herself off the broom, the thought of just how much she enjoyed his touch a little too vivid for her comfort. As she was dismounting, her foot caught on the broom handle and she stumbled and fell heavily into the stone arch surrounding the door. She took a moment to collect herself, making sure she was entirely steady before she dared to try and walk. She straightened and smoothed her dress. Without looking at him, she walked calmly to the door and turned the handle.

Locked.

Hermione closed her eyes. _Why? Why does it have to be locked now?_ Taking a deep breath, she turned back to him. He was still reclining on the broom, so much a part of it that he seemed designed for it. She looked at him, mustering all her courage to hold his intense blue gaze.

"Would you open the door for me?" She kept her voice impressively level despite her pounding heart and dizzy head.

"Yes." He didn't move, though, continuing to look at her, burn into her with an unsettling precision.

"Will that be some time tonight or should I begin to look for a soft bit of stone to curl up on?"

"No I'll open it tonight." But he still stayed where he was.

She tossed her head and marched forward several paces. "You know, as cute as your word games are, I'm tired and would like to get to bed. So if you would please stop being an idiot and open the door I would be eternally grateful."

He said nothing. But he did swing his leg over the handle of the broom. Returning his full weight to both of his feet, he stood, grasping the broom in his hand. He walked slowly to the small table positioned in the corner of the balcony and set the broom across it. He traced the ornate ironwork with one hand, his back to her.

Hermione, fed up and humiliated by the situation, opened her mouth to continue her complaining when he spoke, still facing away from her.

"What are you, Granger?"

Hermione was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

He spun to her, leaning against the table, looking at her fiercely. "You heard me. What are you?"

Hermione struggled for words. "I – I don't understand your question."

He tossed his head away from her, looking out over the landscape they had just flown. She could see his jaw working, chewing on his next thought.

"Malfoy, what - ?"

"What _are _you?" He said again, pushing off the table and walking to the railing. "What makes you so damn proud? Why do you strut like you are entitled to the world? What right have you to sleep in this dormitory, superior to all the students? Why do you study so hard so you can get just one more point over a hundred? What makes you resist the world, determined to be whoever you decide to be that day, and damn the consequences?" He took a breath, then went on. "Do you know that you're at the top and don't _need_ to work like you do? If you do know then why do you _still work_? Why are you suddenly the only girl – hell – person at this school who can give anyone shit and get away with it?"

He paused. Hermione didn't say anything. She simply looked at him, confused by this sudden shift of events. He turned to face her full front, staring at her through renegade icy bangs that impair, but never fully conceal his eyes – those blue, chilled eyes.

"Why when I do this – " he strode forward powerfully. She instinctively stepped backward until she collided softly with the stone exterior of the castle. He stopped inches from her, one hand resting on the stone by the side of her head. She could feel the heat of his body radiating off him in the cool night air, more powerfully then when she had been pressed against him. " – does a flame light behind your eyes? Why does it feel as though a latch clicked, a lock turned, something in the world righted itself, so long as that look burns within you?"

"I – " she couldn't think of anything to say and dropped her gaze, looking down, away from the questions whose answers scared her. But he wouldn't let her. Bringing his free hand up to her face, he gently but forcefully turned her eyes back to his gaze.

"_What – are – you?_"

She swallowed, steeling herself for her next words, not having a clue what they might be.

"I am Hermione Granger, the mudblood adversary you've fought for six years. Nothing more. To you or me."

He looked at her for a moment, gaze flickering across her face, to her eyes, her nose, her lips – so close. A tilt of the head…

Abruptly, he released her, backing away several feet. He stood and simply looked at her for a long minute, scrutinizing her figure in the moonlight. Then he grabbed his broom off the table in a swift movement. Stalking to the door, he whispered a word against its ebony panels and it swung open. With a final look back at her, he disappeared, the darkness in his room enveloping his figure possessively.

When Hermione entered his dormitory a shocked moment after he did, he was nowhere in sight. Silently, she walked to her own room, closing the heavy door quietly behind her.

**MWAHAHAHAHA!!!! Hot enough for you? This one made me catch my breath a bit, I'll be cocky enough to say it. I'm gonna run with the arrogant thing and say that my Draco is fantastically hot and I would like him to stalk at me on a moonlit balcony any day. Review! Please please please review! I can't tell you how much it inspires me if I hear that you guys like it. I love you all!**


	13. Reflections

**IMPORTANT: I rewrote Hermione's makeover. It's in Chapter Three: Birds. It makes the beginning of this make a bit more sense.**

**Well. I hope I haven't left you waiting for too too long. I was just sitting here at my computer and the chapter started writing itself in my head. I hope you like! More to come hopefully.**

**Disclaimer: There once was a fan fiction writer,**

**Who knew that copyrights would bite her. **

**She wrote down her name, **

**And then the disclaim **

**So the lawyers wouldn't come back to fight her! (XD)**

Hermione stood in her room staring at herself in the mirror. She stood only in her underwear, letting her breasts and hair free. Her eyes met her reflection's and she studied the color. They were deep, dark brown with large irises to match their doe-like proportions. She traveled next to her nose. It was one of her favorite features. Not overly petite but certainly befitting her face with its ski-jump end. Her mouth was held in a slight smirk, the lips dry, having absorbed the Chap Stick from that morning.

She continued to move down her torso, stopping at her breasts. Whatever other flaws she had she knew that women underwent Merlin knows what kinds of procedures to achieve breasts like hers. For her part, she liked them better in a bra then out. She snorted to herself, knowing any generic man would heartily disagree. She continued to let her gaze fall, lingering on her waist which narrowed nicely falling down over her stomach. She'd never been able to get that desert-plain flat abdomen that was so desired by women. She wasn't fat. But shoe would never fit into a size 0 anything.

Her hips were wide, wider than her ribcage. But they were still in proportion with her frame. She turned around. Half her ass showed beneath the nude lace underwear she wore and she smiled to herself at the image. She'd always liked her ass. Her legs – not so much. Her stomach wasn't the only reason she wouldn't fit in a size 0. Again, she wasn't fat. Just not too thin either.

*knock knock knock* She started and her stomach jumped. She hadn't locked her door so anyone could waltz in and admire at their leisure.

"Granger!" The deep bark of Malfoy's voice reached her through the heavy wood.

"Shit," she muttered, casting about for something to cover herself. Seeing nothing better, she grabbed a light blanket from the end of her bed. She only managed to get it halfway unfolded before the door began to open. Panicked, she threw herself at the opening, halting its progress with a very painful collision of her knee.

"What do you want?" Her voice was short, belying her flustered position.

Malfoy looked down at her, his expression changing from confusion to amusement in a gentle glide. She was haphazardly covered in a thin chenille throw that revealed one bare shoulder to him. He glanced down and saw the edge of beige lace that she was trying in vain to conceal from his burning gaze. He flicked up to her face, her eyes attempting to hold a steely reserve that was compromised by her acute awareness of her attire.

"Well, hello Granger. Nice to see you finally." He grinned. They hadn't spoken in a week and a half. They had had to communicate because of their duties but she had craftily managed to leave him lists magic-ed to his bedroom door that couldn't be removed until he'd done all items on them. He'd replied in kind, though his lists contained several more explicit requests. Those were still hanging on her door and yelled at her every so often to "Walk around naked for a day, dammit! It's been three days since you got that task!"

"The pleasure is entirely yours. Can I help you?" She still wouldn't open the door more than six inches.

"You can always help me Granger." An amateur would have believed him sincere. However, Hermione knew better.

"Either tell me what you want or I slam this door in your face." She made to flick the said door closed but his hand shot up lightning fast to stop it. She looked outraged.

"Granger, even if you could somehow best my strength you currently only have one arm at full operating capacity as the other is securing your wardrobe. You could not possibly win against me with only half your force accessible at the moment." He smiled suddenly. "Though if you would like to drop your wardrobe so as to have full power restored, I will not stop you."

"Go to hell." She made to shut the door again but his arm held fast. She let out an angry cry. "Malfoy it's late will you please just tell me what you want so you can leave me alone!" She actually looked near tears.

"Well since you asked so nicely, may I come in?" His eyes met hers. The sincerity she saw made her mouth act before her head.

"Yes of course." She stood back and pushed the door the rest of the way open. He paused for a fraction of a second then entered her room.

He looked around. It was exactly the kind of room he would expect her to have. Everything was tidy. Her bed was made, a bright orange ball curled up near the headboard. Her nightstand contained her wand, a book, and a glass of water. Her outfit for the following day was hung neatly on a hook to the right of her closet. Looking to his left, Draco saw a dresser drawer partially open. He caught a glimpse of pale green lace with detailed embroidery before Hermione Kicked it closed with her foot. She cleared her throat loudly.

"Well?" He turned back to her, eyes deep.

"Get dressed." She stared at him blankly. He rolled his eyes. "What? You think I can't tell your outfit is barely legal under that blanket? Get dressed. We have to do something."

"I – " she started.

"Don't argue just change." He walked to an arm chair that was positioned with its back to her closet and sat down. Turning to look over his right shoulder at her, he smiled amusedly.

"What do you think you are doing?" She still stood by the dresser, but her stance shifted to one of aggression. The blanket slid off her hip a few inches. Momentarily distracted, Malfoy was a second slow with his answer.

"I…I'm waiting while you change." He managed to force his voice under control.

"Like hell you are! Get out!" She pointed to the door.

He grinned. "But I worked so hard to get in." She didn't move. "Come on Granger. I've seen finer asses than yours in my time so I'm not going to spy on you. Now get in that closet and put on some clothes." He paused. "Or I'll do it for you."

She let out a muffled yelp and scampered, scowling, to her closet. He chuckled as he turned back to sitting forward in the chair.

"If you turn around I swear to all you hold sacred you will not see the sunrise tomorrow."

"Will you just pipe down and get dressed?" Even as his voice was even, he closed his eyes at the thought of what she was doing right behind him. He heard the soft thump of fabric on the wood and knew the blanket she had been clutching now lay in a puddle at her feet, exposing her form to a room where no one could see. He heard her pull something from a shelf and the light snap of a clasp as she fastened it around herself. Then the light tin of a hanger being removed from a metal rod came before the hum of a zipper sliding down. He heard her lift her feet as she stepped into what he could only presume to be a dress of some fashion. The zipper went up again, its high ring making him exhale softly.

He heard her rustling a moment longer before she exited the closet. He did not turn his head but watched her out of the corner of his eye. She had chosen a slim peach dress that once again hugged her form while concealing the full form from his prying gaze. The skirt of the dress fit snug to the hips and ended just below her knee. He wondered why she never wore anything above her knees. He decided to ask her.

"Granger, why is it that you don't have a multicolored away of barely there skirts that you prance around in day and night? You're damn arrogant enough to get away with it."

She looked at him in the mirror of her vanity where she was fixing an odd shell necklace at her throat. "Because the world doesn't deserve to see it all."

He stared at her. That hadn't been what he expected. Unbidden, the question rose to his lips, escaping before he could reign it in. "What are you?"

She froze across the room. This had been the first mention of anything related to the electrically charged broom ride of the previous week. They had carefully avoided talking about the subject in their little repartee with the door lists.

After he walked into his room she snuck in quietly. She hadn't been able to control herself and stole a glance over at him. He was standing by the window, his left arm raised against the emerald velvet of his drapes. He was staring out the window, moonlight coming through the window panes in bars, obscuring his full beauty amid pools of shadow. As soon as she looked her feet stopped, rooting her to his floor about ten feet in from his balcony.

He knew she had stopped but gave no reaction. He was staring resolutely out at the forest, as still as the statue on the tower to his left.

"Draco…" She spoke his name hesitantly, as though testing its volatility. He didn't respond. Encouraged, she took a small step in his direction.

"Leave." His voice was low, almost inaudible, and frightening in its demanding quality.

She didn't move. She wasn't sure how to react to this precise tone of command. Tentatively, she moved forward slightly again. He broke his vigil violently. Turning away from the window he strode across the room, not even glancing at her frozen in his room, and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

She had waited for several moments before turning and walking to her room. Once there, she let her clothing fall away as she turned on the shower. Stepping under the pounding water, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

Images from that night flooded over her. Rather than stop the pictures ravaging her mind, she let them flow as rapidly and as aggressively as the water above her. She felt his chest against her back, felt his arm against her waist, felt his skin under her hands. She remembered the moment on the balcony when they had simply hovered over the stone, neither moving. She skipped forward to her back pressed against stone and her vision entirely obstructed by his face. She let her imagination change the details. So close was his mouth. With just the slightest tilt of her head, she could have invited him in. She would propose the act and he would do the acting – the glorious and yet unfathomable act of connecting their mouths, again.

Hermione shook herself, wrenching her mind away from that night, turning back to face Malfoy sitting in her arm chair in her bedroom. She forced a smile on her face and picked up a light sweater from the back of the vanity chair.

"Now didn't you say we have to do something?" Her voice was falsely cheery, bravely covering her nerves.

He said nothing but stood up slowly out of the chair. He walked to her and lightly placed his hand on the small of her back. With the gentlest of pressure, he guided her to the door and out into the common room.

XXX

**Sooooo. Not too bad. My word Draco is fine. This wasn't as long as a hiatus as last time. And certainly I think we've got some good banter in with this one. I'm quite pleased. More sexiness to come I promise. Review my loveliest of lovelies!**


	14. Cats

**Well here you are my fishies. I hope you enjoy this one. I had to flat out throttle my muse to get it out of her. She was being rude. I have a favor to ask of you. I need you guys to review for me! I have so many ideas but the story hasn't progressed far enough for them to happen! And I have SUCH a good answer ready for Draco's persistent question but NO ONE IS READY TO SAY IT! So. I need you guys to be good little people and write lovely reviews so I can get my self esteem up and vomit out more Draco hotness. You know what you need to do. Now go!**

**Disclaimer: Do you really think I'd have given the above rant if I owned any of this crap? **

XXX

Hermione walked to her door, Malfoy still guiding her with his hand. She increased her pace so as to lessen the burning presence of his hand on her back. Almost imperceptibly he matched her speed, not even acknowledging her attempted escape. She stayed silent as well, trying to concentrate on walking.

He directed her to an armchair in front of the fire, and she sat down. He sat across from her, leaning forward on the edge of the couch. He picked up a roll of parchment from the coffee table in front of him and unrolled it.

"An owl just flew this in. I happened to be in here so fortunately I read it." He held it up and read to her.

"_Dear Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger,_

_We have reason to believe that an unwelcome intruder will be entering the grounds this evening. I need you to go as quickly as possible to the East Tower. From that vantage point you must watch all the grounds on that side of the castle. Other teachers have taken up similar posts elsewhere but that end of the grounds is entirely under your care. If anything should occur send a patronus to me and help will follow shortly thereafter._

_Prof. Dumbledore."_

Hermione stared at Malfoy blankly. "What else does it say?" she demanded.

Malfoy held the paper up facing her condescendingly. "Nothing Granger. See? If it had said anything else I would have let you know I promise."

"Who do they think is coming?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I just told you I read you everything on this paper."

"What time do we stop watching?"

"Do I need to speak slower?" She glared down at him.

"When were we supposed to go up there?" She stood up abruptly, pulling down the hem of her skirt that had crept up her thigh as she sat.

Malfoy looked back at the letter. " '…as quickly as possible.' " He glanced up at her. "Satisfied?"

"No! We should be there already! Professor Dumbledore is counting on us!" She looked outraged.

"Indeed he is Granger. However, the letter says 'as quickly as possible.' We are going as quickly as it is possible for _you_ to go. So I see no issue." Malfoy stood up swiftly. He strode to the portrait hole, sweeping just shy of her shoulder. "Come on Granger. Let's go dance for the puppet master," and he exited the room.

Hermione stared after him, allowing a minute to compose herself before quickly following his figure out into the corridor.

In the high-ceilinged hall she hurried to match his pace, striding shoulder to shoulder with him despite their obvious height difference. She didn't say anything, preferring instead to let the silence keep their tongues at bay. They walked swiftly, turning first left down one hall then right down the next at last reaching a spiral staircase. The staircase was draped in a luxurious scarlet carpet trimmed in silver and umber. Seeing that Malfoy had paused for a moment, she sped up and ascended the stairs before him her feet sinking into the plush tapestry. She climbed and climbed, her breathing steady but slightly more stressed than usual. Malfoy followed her silently doing his utmost to concentrate on the rug beneath his shoes and not the tight skirt of the girl's dress hovering two feet from his gaze.

She reached the top of the stairs at last and stepped into a small, circular room. Hermione loved the East Tower and not just because the carpet on the stairs was continued in this small space. In the center of the room stood a circular table with four chairs placed at the compass points. The chairs were thick and leather covered with heavy nail trim adorning the edge of the upholstery. The table's surface contained an inlayed wood version of the Hogwarts crest with the four animals intertwined in an aggressive stance. The walls were almost entirely covered in windows that overlooked the gorgeous grounds in nearly every direction. A thick ledge, wide enough to sit on ran underneath the windows and was draped in thickly covered cushions. Very few people knew of this place and Hermione liked it that way.

Malfoy emerged behind her and stood next to her, surveying the room. "So how would you like to do this?" He asked, not looking at her. His voice was even, not affected by the stairs in the slightest. Hermione blushed inwardly, knowing his Quidditch training was not just aesthetically beneficial. Shaking off the many, many images of his figure, she spoke.

"I think we should sit opposite each other so as to get the best possible view of the grounds as a whole." She moved suddenly, stationing herself on the left side of the tower. She perched on the cushioned sill with her back against a stone support and her legs folded neatly to one side. She looked over at Malfoy, still standing where she left him.

He remained for only a fraction of a second before striding to the right. He too sat on the sill, although he lounged back against a window, legs bent in the typical male fashion and elbows resting carelessly on his knees. They looked out over the grounds. The sky was moonless and the grounds were an indistinguishable puddle of blackness. Draco snorted.

"How exactly does the old bat expect us to see anything in this kind of light? Merlin, he's supposed to be smart."

"Malfoy it's one in the damn morning. Do you really feel like getting into a flat out fight right now?"

Malfoy grinned over at her. "Granger you really have a high opinion of yourself don't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She adjusted her skirt so the fabric pulled less against her thighs.

"You think that just because you're tired I'm going to back off? You must know by now how this works." His smirk grew wider.

Hermione straightened herself. _Fine. I'll play_. "I'm not sure if I quite understand the dynamics of this relationship. So far what you've mostly done is engage in ever-so-witty repartee before saying something you regret and stalking off into the darkness." His face settled into a stony exterior.

"That is not my fault. Stalking seems to be a language in which you are fluent so I figured the only way to communicate with you was by stalking." His eyes glittered.

"I guess I am not surprised that one as ape-like as yourself would only be able to communicate through body language. You see we higher life-forms have evolved to a series of sounds we refer to commonly as speech." She spoke patronizingly slow as if educating a very thick troll.

Malfoy laughed and glanced out the window again. His face changed rapidly, gaining a warrior's look of defense. "Granger look." His voice was low and worried as he pointed to a spot on the grounds roughly thirty degrees left of his position.

Hermione obeyed, turning her head so as to see what he was referring to. She saw nothing, merely a pool of motionless blackness. She was annoyed now.

"Malfoy come on. Are you really so unimaginative that you have to fake seeing something outside in order to best me in this little competition?"

"Shut up Granger." He was standing now, one hand pressed flat against the seat while the other gripped the window frame. His eyes burned out into the darkness.

"How dare you tell me to shut up!" Hermione swung her legs over the side of the ledge in preparation for a battle. "I will have you know that – " she was cut off. Malfoy had relinquished his grip on the window and strode over to where she was sitting. His hand had gone to her mouth, the other arm snaking around her back. His body pressed hers into the wall, silencing any further protestations as he stared out of the window at the mysterious black shape moving along the grounds. Hermione's heart jumped violently, her pulse rapidly increasing as the heat of Malfoy's body scorched her. For his part, he was intently watching the window, still holding her form to his protectively.

As he watched the figure on the grounds, a ray of light cut the night. It struck the blackness driving it away and revealing the white fur of a cat. The cat paused at the sudden harshness of the illumination spilling from a second floor window. It sat up smartly, bright green eyes intensely studying the subjects of the opening. After observing the portal for a moment longer, it turned around and ran back around the left side of the castle.

With the figure gone, Draco suddenly became aware of his body. His leg was sandwiched between her own whilst the other was extended back giving him leverage to hold her still. His arm was cinched tight about her waist, pressing her hard against him. His hand was still at her mouth, keeping her silent lest she draw attention to their position. He turned his head to look at what was visible of her face. Her eyes were wide, a look of complete astonishment swimming in their depths. He slowly pulled his hand away. She celebrated the relief with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes still locked to his.

Hermione stared at him, the deep burning blue of his eyes held her captive. Even if his body had not been pressed so unbearably close to hers, she would not have moved. She was held by his trance. He remained still, not removing the arm from behind her back. He moved his head slightly, illustrating the unspoken thought that was in the forefront of both their minds.

And he kissed her, fully, completely, and with as much skill and prowess as she remembered. Her eyes fell closed as the familiar sensations ravaged her. It was the complete antithesis of their first kiss, however. It was slow and soft, his lips moving gently against her own. He worked his mouth into a delicate dance that would have brought her to her knees had she not already been seated. He turned his head, deepening their embrace with the same softness that was wholly unexpected.

His free hand went to her neck, the fingers wrapping around the back while his thumb caressed the soft line of her jaw. Hermione responded to him softly, parting her lips upon the feel of his tongue and shaking as he tasted what she had to offer. Her legs involuntarily rose around his, her skirt riding far too high as she hesitantly pulled him closer. Her hands went to his waist finding first the belt line then the hem of his shirt. She ran timid fingers along the strip of skin she had unearthed, its warmth holding an insatiable appeal for her senses.

He broke the kiss suddenly and unexpectedly. Her eyes opened quickly, fearing she had done something wrong. She didn't have long to dwell on the idea as he lifted her without warning. The room spun as he threw her down none too gently upon the table in the center of the room. She let out a slight cry as her back collided with the solid wood beneath her. His body came over hers, transferring part of his weight to her figure before he again sealed her mouth with his. This kiss, however, was aggressive like their first. In her mind, she had downplayed his skill, minimizing the splendor so she could miss the feeling less. However it returned full force as he bit her lip harshly, pulling slightly before covering the bite with earth-shattering swipes of his tongue. She whimpered a little at his skill, desperately returning the passion with nips and scrapes of her own. He ran his fingers down her sides, pulling her hands from where she desperately clutched his back and yanked them over her head, pinning both down with one of his own.

His attack on her mouth never halted during his work, his tongue tasting every inch of her he could find. The hand he still had free skated down her right leg, pulling her hips deeper into his body, pressing her powerfully to him. Hermione was dizzy with the situation. She had longed for this moment since the first time he'd done it, whether or not she admitted it to herself. She had forced all memories of their first kiss deep, deep in her mind, denying herself access even when she was alone in her room. Now, under the weight of his body and under the power of his spell, her lust for him was as powerful as ever. She loved the feel of him against her and the fact that he was the one giving her that feeling.

But even as she kissed him with everything she had to give, her mind began to fight her. She hated this man and hated any thought of him that polluted her head. She enjoyed his touch more than she wanted to enjoy any man's and knew that she had forced down that pleasure for a reason. The task of burying his skill had been difficult and required an immense effort. And here she was grinding herself against the very object of her hate, whimpering in wanton abandon as he ravaged her, toppling all the walls she had fought so hard to build. As soon as this realization hit her, her eyes flew open. She threw her head back and broke the kiss, inhaling deeply as she was freed.

Malfoy looked down at her. He was breathing hard and his eyes were clouded with a longing she angrily knew was mirrored in her own expression. She made to move out from under him but he held her fast. She looked up at him angrily.

"Let me go." Her voice was low and dangerous.

"No." He said the word simply and calmly. An unbidden jolt of desire shot through her stomach and held her breath in her lungs.

"Let me go!" She was struggling now, twisting and wrenching her wrists away from his grasp. He held fast though, eyes boring into hers.

"No," he said again. "Not until we talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said bluntly. "You're holding me here against my will and I would like you to stop. That is reason enough for you to let me up."

"How long are we going to do this?" He snarled the words at her, surging forward so that his face was mere inches in front of her own.

"Do what?" Her voice was deceptively innocent, but her heart raced in her chest. She knew what he meant.

"_This._ Pretend like there's nothing hovering between us."

"There's nothing between us," Hermione replied, intentionally leaving out the pivotal word in his question.

He stared at her, eyes full of anger and a deeper emotion she'd never seen before. His jaw was working lightly, grinding his teeth together as he thought.

"Nothing." He spoke the word softly, almost to himself.

"Nothing." She replied firmly, again trying to break free. He still held her fast, pondering her answer his eyes focused on a point far away from her face. All of a sudden he pushed back, releasing her from his grip. He walked away from her coming to a halt against the window ledge. Hermione lifted herself off the table, pulling down her skirt and straightening her hair. As she turned to leave, he spoke again.

"What are you?" He asked the question with his back to her, not allowing her to see his face.

She stayed silent, trying to find an answer. When none emerged, she turned around softly before exiting down the stairs.

XXX

**Ehhh…Not sure how much I like this one. What do you guys think? It could just be because it's late and my mind is skewed. But I'm not sure. If you'd let me know I'd really be grateful. Thank ya!**


	15. Entendres

**Ok. I am entering a battle. You will understand after reading the chapter. Just make sure to read the author's note at the bottom again. Thanks my lovelies.**

**Disclaimer: Gimme an N! Gimme an O! Gimme a THING! What does the author own? NOTHING!**

XXX

Hermione rushed through her bedroom door and closed it quickly behind her. Her mind was blank and tumultuous all at the same time. She walked to her bed and fell flat on her back across it. How often was this going to happen? And how long would it take for her to be immune from his touch? She closed her eyes and relived the last hour.

His hands on her body. His mouth on hers. She'd tasted him, the spices and flavors that revolved around his tongue as it danced and mingled with hers. She'd been under an influence that was both ecstasy and torment. Ecstasy because he drugged her with his mouth. Torment because he represented everything she'd fought against for so long.

After she'd left the tower, she'd hurried down the stairs as fast as her legs would take her. But not fast enough.

"Granger!" His voice rang in her head along with the quite thud of his shoes on the floorboards behind her. She didn't turn around. "God damn it, Granger listen to me." He'd finally caught her and wrapped one strong hand around her upper arm. She pulled but he held fast.

She turned her head slightly, not looking at him but alerting him that she was listening.

"Granger we have to go see that old loon," his voice was even, low as he spoke to her. "I know I saw that white cat outside. Most likely it is just some Hufflepuff's pet that the idiot didn't keep in her dormitory, but we still have to let Dumbledore know of the issue."

She stayed silent.

"Damn it Granger you're going to have to look at me eventually," he snarled.

She raised her head defiantly. "I know. I was just hoping that I could avoid seeing your grotesquely simian features for as long as possible." As he looked at her, the torchlight flickered over his high cheek bones, straight nose and sculpted mouth leaving the hollows of his beautiful eyes momentarily in shadow. _Dear Merlin he is fine._ She mentally tackled her inner monologue and shoved it into a trunk.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Alright, _I'll_ go talk to our whipping master and inform him of potential threats while you sit here and stick your nose in a corner." He released her and moved to turn away.

"Are you going now?" The eager concern in her voice toppled the callousness of her previous statement.

"Yes Granger," he tossed over his shoulder. "I figure the sooner the nut knows about the danger of a white Persian, the sooner he can implement plans to save all the little idiots sound asleep in their dormitories." He continued walking.

Hermione fumed inwardly. He'd left her with no choice but to go with him. If she didn't, she would appear to be neglectful of her duties.

"Arhh!" She screamed and hurried to catch up with him.

Draco was positioned so as to hide his face from her. But a small, victorious smile lifted his lips just for a moment before he caught her out of his peripheral vision.

Three minutes later, three because Hermione had counted the seconds to herself so as to not let her mind wander anywhere near East Tower, they arrived at the gargoyle outside the headmaster's office. Hermione suddenly realized that neither of them had the password to enter the office within. She grudgingly turned to him.

"What's the password?"

"Since I so frequently enter this old coot's lair I have all his passwords written on the back of my hand so I can certainly tell you what the current one happens to be." He grinned widely at her, intentionally positioning his hands so she could clearly see the blank flesh that resided there.

"Is mockery all you think about?"

"And sex."

She blushed slightly as his smirk only grew. Turning huffily back to the gargoyle, she stared at it angrily. "How the hell do I open you?" She muttered.

"By giving me the password." She jumped as the stone figure responded to her hushed query.

"Oh look Granger," Malfoy said, "a piece of stone beat you to answering a question. Now don't you feel ashamed?"

"You had better shut up right now or I'll –"

"Yes?" He stepped a foot closer to her, bringing his body inside her sphere of comfort. She shook her head to clear it.

"Sugar quills!" She cried desperately at the animal next to her. To her complete and utter astonishment, it opened revealing the gently revolving staircase behind it. She looked back at Malfoy.

"Shall we?" She gestured to the staircase.

"Ladies first." He bowed slightly to her and she skipped through the doorway ahead of him.

She perched herself on a step, carefully balancing on the widest outer part. He came behind her, standing on the next step below her. They were too close for her to turn around to look at him. However, his breath came in gentle puffs against the back of her left arm. Her stomach jolted violently as she flashed back to the tower, his hot exhalations on her lips just a hair's breadth away from his.

She had to break the silent tension. She arched her neck over her shoulder to speak to him. To her surprise she found his face only a few inches away from her shoulder and slightly lower down. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Did you want to say something?" His voice was low and teasing.

She bit back a scream of rage in her mind. How often was he going to do this? How many times would he get in her face and make a coy remark that is completely undermined by his sex appeal?

_I did not just say that. Oh hell no I did not say that._

She turned away from him again finding the task of remaining calm much easier if she could not see his face. She focused on her breathing, taking deep inhalations, holding them until she thought she would die, then letting them go as steadily as she could. She began to feel calm. The strain in the air began to ease.

She heard him move a split second before she felt him. She let out a gasp ending in a small cry as she felt him mouth make contact with the back of her neck. His tongue darted out to taste the ridges of her spine. Her eyes automatically fell closed and her back stretched as he lavished the crook of her neck. He kissed across her back very slowly, making sure to completely devour one section before allowing himself to move to the next.

Draco felt her arch in front of him and moved his hand to her hip to keep her still. Her own hand came down to rest on his, gripping slightly but not as though she wanted him to stop. He smiled against her skin as he heard her breath hitch as he found a sensitive spot on her left shoulder. He pressed into the spot and nipped slightly, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make her squeak in pleasure. He smoothed over the bite with his lips and began to make his way back to center.

Just as he returned to the middle of her neck, she jolted in front of him. They had reached the landing of Dumbledore's office and she'd stumbled at the threshold. She leaned against the wall lightly, attempting to recover the strength in her shaking legs. Malfoy was watching her calmly, as small smile of amusement on his face. He reached by her and knocked twice on the door.

Hermione threw her head up panicked. She could hardly stand let alone speak coherently to anyone. She looked daggers at Malfoy whose expression only grew more entertained. She heard footsteps from within the office and hastily jerked herself into an upright position. The door clicked open and Dumbledore stood before them dressed in star-laden robes of palest ivory.

"Ms. Granger. Mr. Malfoy. Do come in won't you?" He stepped back to allow them entry and they obeyed.

Dumbledore shut the door behind them and walked around the edge of his magnificent desk to face them. "Please, sit." He gestured at two ornately embroidered golden chairs positioned close to his desk. The two obeyed him and settled down.

"Now, how may I be of service?" Dumbledore reclined lightly in his desk chair, the tips of his long, spindly fingers resting together.

Malfoy spoke. "We went up to the East Tower tonight like you instructed, sir." Hermione glanced sideways at him. She couldn't pinpoint the origin, but she had the feeling that the 'sir' was insolent.

Dumbledore nodded. "Did you find anything of interest?" Malfoy glanced sideways at Hermione for the briefest of moments. Her stomach dropped at the suggestive look in his eyes. "Yes we did, sir." He explained briefly about the cat, detailing that it had not appeared threatening and had disappeared the moment the light broke from the castle.

Dumbledore listened quietly throughout, his eyes deep in thought. When Draco finished, Dumbledore looked up. "Is that all you saw?" Malfoy nodded slightly. Dumbledore turned to look at Hermione. "And you, Ms. Granger? Did you see anything?"

Hermione shook herself. She'd been using the time Malfoy was speaking to Dumbledore to attempt to regain control of her body. She straightened up and looked at the Professor directly. "Well sir, I – " her voice faltered as Malfoy brushed the tip of a finger along the outside of her thigh. Their chairs were close enough to the headmaster's desk that he could not see their hands. She tried to recover from this most recent assault on her defenses by quickly clearing her throat. "No sir, I did not see anything." Malfoy drew light circles on the skin that showed below the hem of her dress. Her hand tightened into a fist. She would call the headmaster's attention if she batted his fingers away. "The night was unusually dark but nothing extraordinary caught my eye." As she finished, she shot a glance at Malfoy, waving the double meaning in his face.

Dumbledore nodded again. "Very well. I will alert the teachers about the cat though I am fairly certain it is just a loose pet. Thank you for your work." The two students made a brief motion to leave when Dumbledore said "Oh, since I have you here, sit for a moment please." They resumed their seats, Hermione intentionally shifting to the right to avoid Malfoy's tantalizing touch again.

The Professor leaned forward on his elbows. "I know it is late so you'll forgive my taking a moment to talk to you. It is nearing the middle of October and Halloween will be approaching soon. As usual we will have our banquet in the hall in the evening. However, I have had a new idea. Perhaps after the feast, the upperclassmen could be allowed to attend a ball."

Hermione sat up straighter. Draco glanced over at her from his slouched position in the chair.

"I am aware that Hogwarts is not normally one for galas of this sort. However, I figured it would be a refreshing change from tradition. The event would be only for fourth years and above and last from roughly eight o'clock in the evening until midnight. The feast will take place on Halloween, so it would make the most sense for the ball to be a costume ball." Dumbledore paused as if pondering his next statement. "Since you two hold the highest student positions in the school, the task falls on you to plan the event."

Hermione thought she was going to be physically sick. She actually had to _plan_ a major school gala with the moron sitting next to her? How in _hell_ was she going to do that? She'd already let him devour her on multiple occasions when she was trying her hardest to avoid him. Now she had to fend him off while being forced to interact with him frequently! What could she possibly have done to deserve this agony?

Dumbledore was speaking again and Hermione wrenched herself away from her depression to listen. "You may enlist the help of the prefects if you so choose. Any monetary concerns you have please send to me and I will inform you whether or not they are permissible. The two of you have free reign of the decorations and other details." He smiled suddenly, eyes twinkling at their slightly stunned faces.

"I think that will be all. If you have any questions, feel free to drop in at any time. Now it is late and I must bid you goodnight." He gestured at his office door.

Malfoy stood and strode to the heavy, gold-embossed exit. Hermione followed him and the two disappeared down the stairs into darkness.

XXX

**Ok. SEVERE Author's Note: I would like to let you know that I am a fan of the whole Halloween Dance thing that a lot of these Dramione fics try to do. However, I generally hate how cliché they become. Thus, I am going to do my damndest to make this the most realistic, non-cliché pile of hotness this side of Saturn. Ok? I am declaring war on clichéd dances and all the horrible pile of overdone sentiments that accompany them. Draco? Hermione? Ready? CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE! Review my dolls! Thank you.**


	16. Curtains

**Ok. I have a few things to say. **

**Firstly, I am not going to post the first sentence from the last chapter at the beginning of the next for one main reason. I am a BIG mood person. I like chapters to end with a kick and leave the reader with a delicious flavor in their mouth and that goal would be totally destroyed by a recap. So sorry guys but dinner's cancelled. **

**Secondly, I love all my reviewers to absolute death because you give me such energy and such passion to keep Draco happy. But I have to mention two outstanding reviewers who have left me kind words every single time I update. I admit on my last chapter I was a little miffed because it took them several days to review, as selfish as that is. Yes Audrey33 and TheMinxySix (hilarious name by the way) I am talking about you. I love you darlings and look forward to you every chapter. Thank you. **

**Thirdly, you all ROCK! You've more than doubled both the hits and reviews I've gotten on another site and you guys are funny as hell when you review. Thus you guys win and get all the extras in the chapters. (cussing, sex, hotness, etc.) Keep it up!**

**Lastly, these next few chapters will be mostly plot advancers since I have to get my two lovebirds to the Halloween Gala before any real sizzle can happen. That in itself will be two to three chapters AT LEAST. So be good bunnies and review like mad so that we can get these chapters out of the way and move on to the fun stuff!**

**Disclaimer: Ladies aaaaand Gentlemen! I present you the non-unique, run-of-the-mill, everyday author who owns NOTHING! *Applause***

XXX

Draco sat reclined in an emerald arm chair in the corner of his bed room. One leg was thrown carelessly across the arm of the chair and the other was stretched out on the floor. His eyes focused on a smoldering log in the fireplace and his hand moved back and forth ponderously over his mouth. He'd been frozen in this position for the better part of an hour. He had not even changed from his daywear of gray slacks and a black undershirt. He was thinking.

He hadn't allowed himself to give much thought to Granger's tantalizing presence. Instead he had attributed his actions to an increasingly volatile battle of wits. All emotions and inner voices that indicated otherwise were bottled deep in the recesses of his mind. Now however, he allowed himself to crack the bottle, to examine that which was so foreign to him.

She was unique. That was for damn sure. Her subtle mouth and flashing eyes swam before him as he built a picture in his mind. He'd never encountered anything – man, beast, or spell – that he could not conquer. He won every fight. He _had _to win. Something inside him suffered if he was not declared the undisputable victor. But she didn't let him win. Even though he bested her on many occasions, the victory was never truly complete. He never totally eradicated this opponent. He merely stalled her, allowed her time to strengthen her front, before she would attack again. Each time she came back stronger, if only by shades. He knew that she would one day win. He could _not_ let that happen.

He leaned his head back against the wing of the chair and looked up at the ceiling. Carved in the ebony and black walnut was the image of a centaur. This centaur was female, her waist narrowing to an excruciating circumference as her torso joined to horse's form. Draco remembered the feel of Granger's body underneath him. He remembered running his hands down her curve, feeling the vixen twist beneath him. He remembered the soft movement of her mouth, the sweet aftertaste she left on his lips. He remembered the pull of her wrists against his hand, begging to be released so she could pull him to her. She was strong, not a petite twig who barely outweighed a dog. Yet there was fragility in her. Her body gave off the overwhelming impression that it was free to be owned by a worthy possessor. But that possessor needed to be gentle, to be aware of her frailty so as not to damage priceless art.

_Stop it._ He commanded himself. He heaved a great exhalation and tossed his head to look out into the room. The window outside framed a brilliant purple and orange sunset in black velvet. The day had flown by as he was so engrossed in his own mind. And now that it was the weekend, he was quite content to sit undisturbed for the rest of the night, alone with his thoughts.

_Tap tap tap. _

There was a knock at the door. Jolted from his brooding, Draco merely looked at the polished wood without moving. The knock came again, louder and more insistently. Begrudgingly, Draco acknowledged that the visitor could not be ignored and rose lazily from his chair. He knew the brunet was on the other side of the door and thus took his time strolling across the room. He opened the door at the end of the third set of knocks. Granger stood before him, her face just visible above an enormous box she was carrying. Draco laughed inwardly at her precarious balancing act.

"Evening sir," Hermione began sarcastically, "may I come in?"

"That depends."

She sighed a little. She hoped this would be easy. No such luck. "On what?"

"On whether or not that box is empty and if I can shove you into it and lock you in my closet." He grinned.

She shifted the box to her left hip and looked up at him. "Mr. Malfoy, have you ever attempted to put a cat into a traveling basket?"

"I think my scarless arms stand testament to the fact that I have not."

"One could argue your back indicates otherwise." His stomach jolted at her words. "However, I will have you know that putting a cat in any enclosed space is all but impossible. If you were to even attempt to put me in a box I would act likewise." Draco grinned. She shifted her box back to her hands. "Now, may I come in?" He said nothing, but allowed her to pass by him.

"Thank you." She brushed by him. Draco caught the lightest scent of some light, airy fragrance that was maddeningly strong.

"To what do I owe the horror?" He closed the door behind him and walked back to his arm chair.

Hermione looked at him. He sat reclined much the way he had when he'd forced her to re-dress in front of him. She blushed lightly at the memory. His long legs were stretched far out in front of him in order to accommodate his height in the rest of the chair. She flopped the box down in front of the fireplace and sat down beside it on the white rug.

"A prefect dropped these off a minute or two ago – "

Draco cut in. "And you were positively famished for my company so you decided to bring them here despite the fact that it is – " he checked the clock "nine o'clock? Isn't it past your bedtime?" He cooed at her degradingly.

"It is but I was hoping you could pick out my pajamas and tuck me into bed. Maybe I could get a bedtime story?"

"Do you wear pajamas? All the better for me if you don't."

Hermione didn't respond. Instead she opened the top of the box and began pulling out heavy binders full of papers.

"The prefect said that these were from Professor Dumbledore." She opened one of the binders at random and gestured to a page displaying a chair modeled in the style of a muggle hunting lodge. "They are catalogues with furniture, decorations, tableware, and anything else we can think of for the ball. Everything is for rent so I thought we could discuss the overall look of the ball and possibly place the orders now to get it out of the way."

Draco said nothing during her explanation but simply watched her. She looked up from the pages in her hand and met his eyes. "Well? Do you want to help or are you just going to sit there and do nothing? If the latter, I'll happy take my box of fun elsewhere."

Still, Draco remained silent but stood from his chair and walked to her. He sat down and fell heavily on his back so he was lying before the flickering warmth in the grate. Hermione shifted her eyes down, forcing herself not to look at the firelight caressing his features.

"So," she began, "the first thing I was thinking was that we should plan a trip to Hogsmeade soon so that the students can purchase costumes for the ball."

No response. Hermione scowled at the figure lying prone next to her, but she plunged recklessly on, determined to accomplish what she came for.

"I thought that maybe the trip could be next Saturday. That way the students have a week to decide whether or not they will go to the ball. Also, we need to make posters to hang around the school. I think we should try to have some kind of theme for this event. It will make it seem more formal. What do you think?"

Malfoy propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. "Do I have to answer?" She slammed the catalogue down in front of him exasperatedly.

"Would you please try to be helpful here? Dumbledore gave us an assignment and it is our duty to fulfill it."

"What's in it for me?" Draco looked up at her, beautiful eyes held carefully blank, watching her expression intently.

Hermione threw up a hand exasperatedly. "I don't know. The sheer delight in knowing that you took control of a situation that will bring many of the young brilliant minds of this school happiness."

Draco shook his head slightly. "Not enough." He moved closer to her, his eyes falling closed slightly and his face adopting a lazy sex appeal.

_No. I've already given in to him two and a half times. No I will not do it._ She shook herself lightly and turned back to the open binder in front of her, eyes gazing blankly at the page while she tried to regain control.

Malfoy sighed heavily and fell back down on the carpet. Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye. He flung his arm over his eyes, resting the bulk of its weight on the bridge of his nose.

"Well then. I'll inform the headmaster about our decision to let the kids go to Hogsmeade. Also I think in order to make the ball feel more adult, we should go with an elegant dinner party setting."

"Really?" Asked Malfoy, eyes still shielded. "Because I was thinking more along the lines of low lighting, base-heavy music, and girls dancing naked in front of me."

"I'm sorry, I forgot that you are only able to think with one part of your anatomy." _You know that isn't true and you know you'd like to be involved with that part of his - . _She flipped a page violently to block off the voice in her head.

"Many studies have shown that it was the male sex of the species who was responsible for carrying on reproduction. I'm merely obeying Mother Nature's orders."

Hermione, ignoring this last remark, picked up her wand and tapped a picture on the page. A micro-suede loveseat changed smoothly from red to black. She cocked her head to the side, deciding whether she liked it better. Malfoy, hearing her silence, lifted his arm and looked down at her.

She heard him move and spoke slightly over her shoulder to him. "What do you think about – " she broke off suddenly, her eyes shifting out of focus as some wonderful, brilliant idea flowed into her head.

"Granger? You okay there?" She jolted and began frantically searching through the magazines splayed out on the floor before her. Malfoy watched amusedly as she propped open book after book of images. He craned forward slightly to see what she had chosen.

The first book showed floor to ceiling velvet drapes in a deep midnight plum. Directly next to it lay silver sheers fluttering magically in their picture. He skimmed to the next book. A low set leather sofa in black accented with swirled pillows that shimmered and twinkled before him.

She had stopped moving. He looked up at her. She was watching his face anxiously, waiting for his approval. Draco thought it odd that she sought his good opinion on this particular instance since she had so often snubbed it before.

"Well?" She asked quietly.

Without glancing down at the pictures, Draco replied "Explain it to me."

She took a breath. "These and these," she pointed to two pieces of furniture, "will be arranged in seating areas around low tables. The curtains will hang in a canopy that covers the ceiling and gathers in the center to this chandelier. Around the hall, curtain panels will fall to the floor which will create almost a room-like setting and –" She continued to talk. Draco watched her, fascinated by her enthusiasm. She pointed and gestured and described wildly. The longer she talked, the more excited she became.

At last she wound down, pointing to a few final accents, before looking up at him again, the same tentative look on her face. "So what do you think?"

Draco sat up, leaning forward so that he aggressively invaded her presence. He looked down at the pictures before him, taking longer than he needed on each one. Finally, he looked up at her, beautiful blue connecting with flashing brown. He moved closer.

"Hermione…" he whispered, his breath falling across her face.

Hermione caught her breath, eyes flicking down to his sculpted, parted mouth. "Yes," she breathed back, dizzy with the nearness.

He moved his lips next to her ear. His breath sent a violent shiver down her spine. In a low voice barely audible to the room, he whispered "I honestly couldn't give a flying shit what the decorations look like."

Hermione jerked back violently from him. He looked up at her through recalcitrant bangs, laughter pooling deep in his burning orbs.

XXX

**Tee hee hee. I love Draco. He saves me every time my chapter begins to wander astray. This one felt a little weird because I haven't been in Draco's head in a while, but I still like it okay. Review lovely birdies! **


	17. Visits

**Wow. I am on fire. Or more correctly Draco is. He's in my head! I am a slave to his will, and he wants me to write about him! Who am I to refuse the wishes of the blonde god? Lol. My original plan was to finish this story by the end of summer. Lol. Won't happen. We have more stuff to go. I like to torture you guys a bit. **

**Also, we have a decision to make as a Draco-loving family unit. My muse is currently so happy with me that she can get me a chapter every single day (or two). So there are two choices for you guys and I am leaving it entirely up to you. (I will listen to you I promise, even if you choose the one that kills me.) FIRST, I can update as often as my muse stirs me which means fairly often at the moment. SECOND, I can wait a few days between chapters so that the impact of the last chapter can sink in before I give you more sex. It's up to you guys. The first option to reach five hits (from different people) will be the option we go with.**

**Disclaimer: **_**Bellboy: **_**Why hello ma'am. Shall I take you to the premium suite for authors who own their own stories?**

_**Me:**_** No. I don't qualify. I'll stick with your generic room for boy friend-less fanfiction writers who are in lust with their story and own nothing. Ok?**

_**Bellboy:**_** Right away ma'am. You know, I could be your boy friend.**

_**Me:**_** *awkward silence* **

XXX

"And that would give the opportunity for the students to purchase anything they wish before the dance." Hermione looked up at Dumbledore who was watching her across the vast expanse of his desk. He sat forward, unclasping his hands as he did so.

"I see your point Miss Granger. Very well, I will post the trip on the house bulletin boards today. Is there anything else?"

"Actually, yes sir." She pulled out a folder from her bag. Handing it across the desk to him she said, "I have marked what items I would like to rent for the ball. If you could review them and, if you find them acceptable, place the orders I would greatly appreciate it."

"Of course. I will look over them this afternoon. Will that be all?

"Yes sir. Thank you for listening. I'd best be off to class." She stood and bent to retrieve her belongings, but the headmaster stopped her.

"Please, Miss Granger. Would you sit for a moment? I would like to speak with you." Hermione's stomach dropped. Was she in trouble? She wracked her brain desperately, trying to think of anything that would give the professor cause to question her. She hadn't skipped class. All her homework was turned in. She hadn't been wandering anywhere she shouldn't. But…_Malfoy._ Her breath caught. Did Dumbledore suspect something? Of course he suspected something. She couldn't focus when he was in the room.

"Miss Granger, I was just wondering how you are doing with your Head Girl position. Is it suiting you?"

_Oh for the love of Merlin. How the hell am I supposed to answer that? _"Yes sir. I've been enjoying it very much. The peace and quiet of our dormitory is really helping me focus on my studies. Also I really like being able to be a role model for the younger students." _Hermione, _she scolded herself internally, _where the hell did you learn to bullshit like that?_

"And how is your relationship with Mr. Malfoy going? Are you two getting along?"

_Well no actually. Though I can see how you think we would be getting along given the number of times we've had our tongues down each other's throats. _"Oh yes sir. We've been very collaborative one all the work we've had to do as well as our school work." _Well, you saw the truth coming and just high tailed it in the other direction didn't you?_

"I see." Dumbledore watched her quietly, the ends of his long fingers resting lightly against the arms of his chair. His eyes bored into her, not quite to the hypnotic intensity of Malfoy's, but certainly enough to make her feel cautious. _Just hold it together until he's done scrutinizing you and then you can flee quietly._ He smiled suddenly. "Very well Miss Granger. You may go. Feel free to call on me at any time should you have need."

_Oh thank Merlin. Run! _"Thank you Professor. I will." Hermione rose and crossed to the door, determined to leave the cage as quickly as possible. She slammed the door behind her.

"Goodbye Mss Granger," said Dumbledore softly, eyes twinkling with everything she had not said. He rose slowly from his chair and crossed to his phoenix. Fawks was at his most beautiful. His tail was held high up and the colors reflected in the early sunlight. "We shall see wont we?" He cooed to the bird, stroking the top of its head. Looking up at the closed door, he whispered softly, "We shall see."

XXX

Hermione wandered down to the Great Hall that evening after classes. It was somewhere around dinner time, and she hadn't seen Ginny for several days. Upon entering, she saw that tables were mostly full. She scanned down the Gryffindor table and spied a deep auburn mane of hair pulled back in an artistic bow at the top of the wearer's head. She smiled a little at Ginny's eccentric ability to pull off the most outrageous hair styles. She hurried toward her friend and squeezed in next to her on the bench.

"Hiya," Ginny greeted her, scooting closer to Harry so Hermione could sit down.

"Hey," replied Hermione, trying to keep her flustered voice under control.

"Hey! Did you see? There's a Hogsmeade trip this Saturday."

"I know," Hermione replied wearily, "I planned it."

"Get out!" Squealed Ginny. "You did not! Is that one of your duties as Head Girl?"

Hermione nodded.

"What sparked it?"

Hermione shrugged. "Oh nothing. I just thought– " The light chime of flatware on glass rang through the Great Hall. She looked up to the teacher's table. Professor McGonagall stood in front of the whole hall on a small podium in front of the Headmaster's empty chair. She straightened her green shawl and cleared her throat.

"May I have your attention please!" She paused to let the students shift their attention and end their conversations. "The headmaster has informed me that the school will host a ball on Halloween night." The whole hall erupted in high pitched cheers as the girls collectively squealed in delight. McGonagall waited for the ruckus to calm before she attempted to speak again. "The event is only for fourth years and above. We will have our normal Halloween feast one hour early after which the hall will be cleared and the ball set up. During this time the students of the appropriate age may change for the evening as the headmaster tells me this is a costumed affair. If you have any questions you may direct them to our Head Boy and Girl or you may review the posters on all your house bulletin boards. Thank you." She stepped down from her podium and walked back to her seat.

Ginny looked over at Hermione, eye brows slightly raised in an all-knowing expression. "Nothing huh? You mind telling me what's going on?"

"Nothing! I swear! I just thought it would be a good idea to have a trip to Hogsmeade so the students can buy costumes!" Hermione popped a carrot into her mouth and crunched down on it.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. "And why would they need costumes?"

Hermione threw up her hands in surrender. "Hey! The ball was Dumbledore's idea! We were just complying with his wishes!"

"_We?_" Ginny rolled her eyes and leaned over. Quietly she asked, "What are you not telling me?"

Hermione looked down at her plate quickly. "Nothing."

"Is this about Malfoy?"

She heard Ginny move next to her. She took the chance to lift her head. As she did, she caught an icy blue gaze targeting her from across the room. Malfoy was watching her. He sat leaning forward on one arm with the other elbow resting on the table supporting a silver goblet. His hair fell across his face, dropping the far side into shadow.

"Hermione!" Hermione jolted and looked over at Ginny. Ginny's eyes were narrowed slightly. She had apparently not seen Hermione's staring contest.

"What? No! This is not about him. Why would you think this would have anything to do with him? Malfoy and I are fine."

Harry and Ron looked over at her alarmed. "What about Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Is he bothering you?" Asked Ron, shaking his bangs to the side.

"No boys. Everything is fine. You know what, I have to go. I have so much Charms homework, and I really should get a start on it. I'll talk to you later?" Hermione extracted herself from the bench and hurried away from the table, ignoring the trio's protestations.

Across the hall, light eyes followed her progress out of the room. He studied her hurried walk and conscious glances back over her shoulder. Apparently her little companions had flustered her somehow. Draco laughed to himself and tilted the last of the contents of his glass into his mouth.

XXX

Hermione sat on the rug in front of her fire place Friday night thumbing lightly through a heavy reference book. She wanted to get some work done before the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow. She'd checked the book out at the beginning of the week but hadn't managed to get to it. The previous week had flown by. Ginny had pestered her on more than one occasion to explain her behavior. Once she'd even tag-teamed with Ron and Harry to try to get information. Hermione had been able to carefully avoid all of their questions by saying she had to do homework. This was not entirely untrue. Her professors had loaded her with so many papers and assignments that she barely had time to think in the evenings. Now that it was the weekend, she was looking forward to being able to catch up on all the work she hadn't been able to do.

She stopped on a promising looking page that contained a rather gruesome picture of a pheasant in mid-mutation. She scanned down the left column, quill stopping as she located the phrase she was looking for. Transferring the quill to piece of paper on which she was taking notes, she carefully copied down the desired phrase. She heard her doorknob click above her.

"You know there is this new fangled thing called knocking," she said, not looking up at him.

"Shall we count the number of times you've waltzed into my room unannounced?" She looked up to see his tall figure striding across her room.

"I knocked though." She pointed out, a little miffed.

"You knocked the door or you knocked me? Because both have occurred."

"I don't remember knocking you. That's a lapse in my memory I'd be happy to correct now if you like."

He helped himself to the empty chair across from her, kicking his feet out in front of him and throwing one arm up over the back.

"So you've graduated to physical assault now as oppose to castration?"

"Oh I haven't ruled that out. Keep talking and you just might get lucky." Malfoy grinned as she pursed her lips. "What do you want?"

"I'm not sure I want to tell you since you seem quite intent on violence this evening."

Hermione tossed her head angrily. "Fine, be an ass. But can you at least be an ass who shuts up and lets me do my homework?"

Malfoy laughed. "I'm not really one to take orders."

"Shocking." Said Hermione and turned back to her books.

"I just wanted to remind you that per the old loon who runs this school, you and I have to search the village after the brats leave tomorrow at the end of the visit. I guess it's part of the school's agreement with Hogsmeade."

"And it was absolutely imperative that you tell me this tonight as opposed to as we're leaving tomorrow morning?"

He smirked. "I sensed you were desperate for my stimulating company. However, the village isn't tiny so be prepared."

"So if it would be better if I didn't wear ankle-breaking hooker heels since we'll be walking?" Sarcasm ran heavy out of her mouth.

"Well I wouldn't mind if you wore them but for your sake, yes."

"You might want to take that advice for yourself too."

His eyebrows rose. "So now I'm a cross-dresser?"

"Oh if you're feeling self-conscious about the fact, I'll be sure to keep it quiet." She placed her index finger mockingly across her lips, indicating silence.

"Why should I feel self-conscious in the presence of the type of spinster who attends cross-dressing shows to pick up tips on the latest fashion trends?"

Her eyes flamed and she shot to her feet. Marching over to him, she shoved him hard in the chest. "Get out! Get the hell out of my room!" He didn't move. She cocked both hands back to shove him again.

Malfoy grabbed her wrists before she had a chance to make contact with him. With a sharp jerk, he pulled her to him. She fell into his lap, her legs instinctively straddling his and resting on the crimson velvet of the chair. She didn't move as he held her arms, refusing to let her go. The silence hung heavy on their skin, pressing down and causing each to feel delicously suffocated by the other's presence.

She pulled against him, trying to get away. His lips made hot contact with her throat, halting her movement with a shuddered gasp. He released her hands and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her hips deeper into him. He leaned back in the chair effectively pulling her with him. He moved slowly down, dipping his tongue into the v of her collar bones. His mouth was hot and strong on her skin. One of her hands rested on his shoulder while the other snaked around his neck and fisted in his hair. Her eyes fell closed, a small sigh escaping her lips. His tongue danced across her chest, the sweet flavor driving him mad.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes flew open. In a rush, she extracted herself from his embrace and stumbled against the bed. Malfoy looked at her, still reclined in the chair, the light of passion flickering in his expression. She was sure the expression was mirrored on her own face. An idea suddenly occurred to her. Turning her back to him, she walked slowly to the door. Her hips swayed with the movement, allowing her nightgown to dance around her knees.

Upon reaching the door frame, she looked over her shoulder at him. She heard him get up from the chair, following her figure out the door. Just outside the exit, she leaned against the door jam, looking up at him innocently. He stopped in front of her, looking down at her small form. She moved forward slightly, tilting her head as if to capture his mouth in a sweet kiss. Malfoy closed his eyes, waiting for her lips to fall on his.

Hermione, seeing this, grinned to herself. Quickly and silently she moved passed him and into the room. Malfoy opened his eyes to the sound of her door slamming closed behind her.

He chuckled a little to himself and walked back to his room alone.

XXX

**Ok. I had two options here. Either I could make a 9000 word chapter or I could end it there. I chose to do the latter because I hate insanely long chapters. Next chapter will be Hogsmeade. The Ball will come soon after. Ok? Review fishies.**


	18. Crystals

**Soooo….the overwhelming decision was that I will wait to update for a few days so the impact can sink in. I must confess that was not the response I was expecting. But it turned out to be lucky since I went off on a tangent and had no idea where this chapter was going to go for a few days. But all good now. Here you are. Don't forget to review! I love you all!**

**Disclaimer: I bet you can't guess what I'm thinking. Yes, it has to do with fanfiction. Yes, it has to do with owning fanfiction. You got it! I was thinking that I don't own anything but the plot of my fanfiction! Good job.**

XXX

A light trill forced its way through Hermione's dream, disrupting the gentle splendor of swimming lazily through coral reefs made of emeralds. She stirred lightly, trying to block out the noise so she could return to her magical kingdom. No such luck. The high, fluttering noises pulled at her more insistently from her dream. She admitted defeat when she opened her eyes, looking around the room for the source of the disturbance. Sitting wide-eyed next to her pillow was a large, fluffy orange cat looking adoringly at her with big amber eyes. She smiled.

"Good morning, sir," she cooed softly to him, reaching up to stroke his fluffy head. He purred contentedly and forced his head up into her palm. She checked the clock on the nightstand behind him. The hand had just ticked past eight o'clock. That cat was like an alarm clock with his accuracy. She looked back down at him. He was hesitantly looking up at her, seeking reassurance of her pleasure to see him. She laughed a little.

Rolling over on her back, she stared up at the canopy of her bed. The gold threads interwoven with red tapestry twinkled at her in the morning light. _Hogsmeade._ The thought left her somewhat emotionless. She really hadn't put a tremendous deal of stock in the trip. It was more for the benefit of the students and the fulfillment of her duty than anything else. However since she had planned it, she may as well make the most of it. She rolled to her side, Crookshanks protesting loudly, and planted her feet firmly on the drafty floor. She would enjoy herself today. That was a promise.

XXX

The door creaked loudly as Hermione pushed her way out of The Three Broomsticks. She'd finally managed to extract herself from a corner table where Ron, Harry, and Ginny sat drinking butterbeer and laughing together. She didn't mind their company but today it felt somewhat forced. She felt like a third wheel and so decided to wander around the village alone.

The day was a bright, blinding gray. The sun was completely obscured but that did not stop the whole town from being completely lit up by the light bouncing through the clouds. A light wind stirred and blew chill air through her wool robe. She wrapped it around her more securely and turned left, away from the center of town.

The west end of the village was less frequented by the students when they visited. There was really not much down at this end save some fabulous antique houses and a candle shop or two. Hermione walked quickly, the soles of her red boots clicking lightly on the cobblestones. She happened to love this part of town, but she rarely visited because she was often with one of her three companions. They tended not to like it because of its lack of activities.

She stopped at a crossroads, looking up at a street sign with interest. It read 'Alder Street.' She looked down the road. Nothing spectacular caught her eye except a weathered sign on the right side of the road. From here, she could not read the name of the store, but the lower corner of the sign portrayed a painting of a highly ornate candle burning a blue flame. Curious, she angled her steps toward the building.

She arrived at the door of her desired building soon enough, after pausing to allow an old wizard with a cat on a leash to pass. She craned her neck up at the sign. _The Wooden Cauldron – Home of Unique Finds and Signature Gifts._ Hermione looked at it for a moment. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she pushed open the door.

A soft bell tinkled above her head as she entered the warm fire-lit shop. The shop was a crowded maze of tables and shelves that wound their way around the wood-paneled room. The air smelled of cedar and lavender chips. The light was tinted a rich gold by ornate bronze lanterns hanging from the ceiling. She felt something hit the back of her leg. She looked down. A large white cat looked up at her with bright green eyes. She wondered briefly if it was the cat they'd seen on their surveillance trip to the East Tower. She bent down to pet the animal, but it shied away, backing into an alcove under a table.

"He's a little shy," a low voice came from her left. She looked up. A small woman stood before her. Her hair was wild and curly, falling in a tangled mess to the bottom of her shoulder blades. She was donned in a deep amethyst dress that laced up the front and fell well past her knees. The hem displayed an embroider voile panel adorned with leaves and vines. On her feet she wore brown suede boots dull with age and wear. To compensate for the draft, she had wrapped an ornate scarf about her shoulders. A peacock pattern was visible on the scarf and was embellished with small beads and jewels. Her eyes, deep brown almost black, observed Hermione with an amused expression. She held out her hand, a hundred bangles clinking together with the movement. Hermione shook it.

"This is my shop. Feel free to look around. Can I help you find anything?"

Hermione smiled. "No. Thank you. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for actually."

The woman searched her face before saying mysteriously, "Who is?" She paused. "Well if you figure it out or if you have any questions I'll be behind the counter." Hermione nodded and the shopkeeper walked away. Stones on the edge of her scarf clinked as she turned down a narrow aisle of the store. Hermione shook her head lightly. She had a funny feeling that this woman would approve of Professor Trelawney. Still, Hermione figured she may as well look around.

She wandered down an aisle to her left. The tables were sagging under the weight of a thousand different varieties of stones. Hermione ran her hands lightly over the colorful gems. They felt slightly warm under her touch presumably from some internal magic of their own. A sign above them informed her they were healing crystals.

She moved on, passing a shelf of books on homeopathic remedies to common ailments. She had the vague impression that this shop was somewhat anti-magic. On the other side of the store hung a shelf of fabric hung in long folds. She reached her hand into the colorful mass, the cool fabric slipping and slithering under her touch. The fabric was a collection of floor length skirts and ornate scarves much like the shop owner was wearing.

Hermione pulled out a deep green number, holding it against her frame and allowing the fabric to flow around her knees. She liked how heavy the dress felt, like she was wearing a blanket. However, she put it back on the rack. She wasn't in a buying mood at the moment. She felt she'd seen enough and turned away from the clothing to go.

At the very back of the shop perched on a corner shelf high above the store sat a mask. She stopped and exhaled softly. The mask was a glorious intertwining mass of silver and black. Around the rim a small trim of beads and jewels winked at her in the candle light. Three enormous feathers sprouted from a large gem in the top center of the mask. They were accented by a smaller tuft of plumes that clustered thickly around the top. The eyes were surrounded by swirls of black and silver that sparkled like diamonds. Under each eye cutout three progressively larger tears lent a sad, mysterious air to the ensemble.

"Would you like to see that piece?" The shopkeeper had seen her staring and come up behind her.

"Oh," said Hermione softly, "yes, if you don't mind."

The woman waved her wand at the mask and it floated down to where they were standing. Hermione lifted her hands and the item fell gently onto her finger tips. It was even more romantic and beautiful.

"There is a mirror, if you wish to try it on." The lady gestured to the left.

Hermione walked to it and held the mask before her face. It molded to the contours of her face slightly so as to fit better. She took her hand away and the masquerade magically remained on her face. Her eyes flashed with pleasure behind the silver spirals. She looked like she was ready for – "…a ball," she whispered. She pulled on the mask gently and the magic released, allowing it to fall into her hands.

She turned to the woman, eyes bright with joy. Holding out the mask she said "I'll take this."

XXX

Hermione walked briskly down the streets of Hogsmeade. Her package from The Wooden Cauldron secured snugly in her arms. She had just spent the better part of an hour searching the half of the village that she had been wandering. She was now walking back to the center of town after shooing two fifth years locked in a passionate, clumsy embrace behind a garden shed.

As she approached the Three Broomsticks, she saw a tall figure leaning against the building. One leg was crossed over the other and his arms were folded tight to him as she approached. She caught the flash of flaxen hair and sighed inwardly. She'd temporarily forgotten that she had a date with Mr. Malfoy. _Date? You really need to get out more if this qualifies as a date, _Hermione scolded herself silently. _I didn't mean a date! I meant we had to do something together,_ she argued back. "Oh shut up both of you!" Hermione spoke the last words under her breath as she approached him.

"Hello," he addressed her, his voice low and sending shivers up her spine.

"Hello," she replied as coldly as she could muster. "We have to search the village now."

"I'm so happy you can state the obvious. It's a wonderful skill for later in life."

Before she could retaliate, the door to The Three Broomsticks opened and Ron, Harry, and Ginny emerged. They stopped dead when they saw Hermione and Malfoy standing before them.

"What the hell are you looking at, Malfoy?" Ron snarled, upper lip curling to match his tone.

"Easy Weasel. I'm not threatening you so there's no need to fuss." Malfoy observed them with impassive eyes.

"Your presence is a threat," said Harry, stepping forward and looking mighty impressive given his added bulk.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows lightly. "Whom, may I ask, am I threatening?"

"You're sharing a dormitory with our best friend," hissed Ron, moving closer. "I think that's enough ground for suspicion."

Malfoy smirked. "You have a fairly low estimation of your friend. What? You don't trust her to protect her own chastity?"

Ron yelled and threw himself at Malfoy. Anticipating this, Draco threw his shoulder forward and landed it squarely in the middle of Ron's chest, knocking the wind out of him. Immediately, Harry jumped forward, seizing Ron's arms and forcing them behind his back. Hermione, dropping her package, jumped forward simultaneously, pushing both small hands against Malfoy's chest. Miraculously, he responded to her touch, backing away from Ron and steadying his breathing.

"Boys!" She shouted at Ron, her back to Malfoy. "Now that's enough! Merlin you all are acting like infants! Now, Malfoy and I have to search the village for any stragglers because that is our duty as Head Boy and Girl. I know you don't like it but it's my job. Can you behave?" She looked at Ron strictly.

Ron, chest still heaving, yanked his arms out of Harry's grip. He walked forward slightly, looking directly at Malfoy. "I'm warning you, Malfoy," he said, voice dangerously low. "If you even _think_ about touching her, I will rip your _fucking head off._"

Malfoy watched him, the heat of secret amusement flickering in his eyes. "Weasel I can assure you, I will be the first to let you know." Ron nodded and stalked past him back up to the castle with Harry close behind him.

Ginny moved forward, taking Hermione by the upper arm and pulling her to the side. She looked very serious.

"Hermione, what is going on?" Ginny looked deep in Hermione's face.

Hermione looked back at her, trying to keep her expression neutral. "What do you mean? Everything's fine."

"Look," said Ginny in a quiet voice. Malfoy stood some distance away observing the conversation out of the corner of his eye. "I'm your best friend. Harry and Ron are too. Have you forgotten that we love you and are always looking out for what's best for you?"

Hermione looked confused. "Of course I know you love me and I love you too. I'd do anything to protect you guys, you know that."

Ginny looked at her. "Then why did you jump in front of Malfoy in that fight and not Ron?"

Hermione was stunned. She hadn't even thought about it. She'd just _done_ it, just acted. It was an instinct, a protective instinct.

"I – I was just trying to break up the fight. Harry had Ron so I figured I'd try to help." She was fishing and she knew it.

Ginny sighed lightly. "I'm your friend so I'll just say this. Please be careful. I'm not going to tell you not to do something because if you want to, none of us can stop you." She looked directly into her face. "Just _please_ be careful." Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Ginny nodded in return before turning and walking back up to the castle. Hermione didn't say anything but turned and walked back to where Malfoy was standing, picking her package up from the ground.

"Shall we go?" He asked her, his voice unnaturally calm.

Again she nodded before following him off into the village.

XXX

**OMG he did it again. Draco you saved me! You saved my chapter! Make me yours forever! And here I thought they were gonna search the village together. Lol. He didn't want to which I must say I approve of. This is much more interesting, if I do say so myself. Review my darlings.**


	19. Angels

**Hi fishies. Here's another chapter for you. This one took me a while. It's like I knew what had to happen before and I knew what had to happen after but TOTALLY couldn't connect the two. But I did. And I like. I'm feeling so much less creative up here in the AN than I usually am. Prolly cuz it's late. And I'm tired. But I won't post this till tomorrow morning because I get more hits if I post at 9 am as opposed to 1 am. So enjoy. (Now that it's 9 am) lol.**

**Disclaimer: (****standup comedian**** - scratch that -_ bad _standup comedian)"So I'm like 'what's the deal with fanfiction authors? I mean they don't own anything so why do they call themselves authors? Am I right?'" *chirp…chirp…chirp.***

XXX

Hermione picked up her glass and drank lightly from it. The sweet flavor of some lemon drink washed over her tongue and down her throat. The liquid removed all flavor of the meal she'd just consumed, effectively clearing her palette. She set the cup down, looking up from her plate as the remains of her baked potato vanished. Ginny was watching her silently, a very perturbed look on her face.

"What?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

"Nothing," said Ginny sharply, spearing green bean on her fork and crunching down on it violently. This game had been going on for the past two weeks, ever since they came back from Hogsmeade. Hermione had returned two hours later than everyone else to find Ginny, Ron, and Harry sitting moodily in a corner by the entrance hall. She'd attempted to reason with them, but they ignored her after a near shouting match. She'd given up trying to talk to them since then and settled instead for giving them ample opportunity to explain themselves.

She pulled her napkin off her lap, folded it gently, and set in by her plate. Looking back up at Ginny, Hermione asked "I'm going to get dressed. You wanna come?" Ginny looked for a moment like she might accept. But then she seemed to remember she was mad and looked away.

"I promised Lavender I'd help her do her hair. Sorry" She didn't look up, just studied a sprout intently. Hermione had suspected this answer and forced her voice into a cheery tune.

"Ok then. See you later." She turned away, walking down the aisle between the tables toward the exit. As she walked, she spotted McGonagall ahead of her. She hurried to catch up with the professor.

"Professor McGonagall!" The woman turned to her. "Excuse me. Do you have everything you need to set up the decorations?"

"Yes Miss Granger. Your instructions were remarkably thorough. I'm sure we'll be just fine. You'd best run along. The feast is nearly over."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you Professor. I'll see you at the ball."

Professor McGonagall nodded and turned away. Hermione stole a casual glance across the Great Hall to the table laden with silver and green. She scanned the benches but no familiar platinum came across her vision.

She turned back to the door and hurried down the corridor. The hallways were nearly empty. Everyone was either down finishing the last of the feast or upstairs getting dressed. From behind her, she heard a muffled voice telling the stragglers in the Great Hall that dinner was over. She needed to hurry or risk getting mobbed before she could escape. She was able to make it back to the Heads' tower quickly and entered into their fire-lit common room.

It was empty. She automatically looked over at Malfoy's door. It was closed but light leaked under the crack at the bottom. _Vain prick._ She sneered at him, knowing full well that her own vanity far outstripped his. Resisting a strong urge to go pester him about something, she veered instead to her own room.

Crookshanks greeted her when she walked in, stretching upside down on the end of her bed spread. As she walked to pet him, she began shedding her clothing. First her sweater, then her blouse until she stood completely naked before him.

"Hello big boy," she whispered as she rubbed his neck. He purred contentedly. "You know how many guys would kill to be in your position right now?" He responded by closing his eyes happily. She laughed lightly at his reaction. She turned away from him and caught sight of her clothing strewn across the floor. Her imagination seized the image, wrenching it out of her control. She remembered Draco holding her to the table in the East Tower, running his hand down her – She shook herself. Now was _not_ the time to think about this.

She squared her shoulders resolutely and walked to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water, allowing it to run before stepping under the beating drops of the shower. She tilted her head back water splashing over her face, washing away the energy and the strife of the day.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged clean and relaxed. As she was toweling her hair dry, she walked over to her closet. In the very back on a wall she used for shoes she had hung her dress for the night. She looked at it, smiling to herself. She'd come across it in one of the magazine catalogues she'd been looking through when planning the decorations. She ran her hands along the silver trim at the neckline and down over the raised velvet swirls on the bodice. Smiling still, she dropped the towel and began to dress.

XXX

Hermione stood hidden by the entrance to the Great Hall. The hall looked beautiful. Long panels of dark velvet hung down and divided the space around the dance floor into two dozen intimate rooms. In the center of each 'room,' a circular bench surrounded a candle lit Dogwood tree that stretched up to meet the fabric obscuring the starry ceiling. Each bench was covered in a thick, plush, plum velvet and trimmed in silver and white tassels. Elsewhere in the rooms sat clusters of low club chairs surrounding bottom lit tables in a sparkling black. Students had already begun to situate themselves in these seating areas, ordering beverages from the floating trays nearby.

The dance floor was exquisite. Highly polished ebony wood reflected the only portion of the hall in which the ceiling was visible. Above the floor floated and enormous crystal chandelier that threw glimmers of light onto the voile fabric surrounding the centerpiece. At the far end of the dance floor, a raised platform decorated with silver chairs welcomed the band that was just entering through a side door. Hermione smiled. The scene looked better than she could have ever imagined. She patted herself internally on the back. She'd worked hard to make this event elegant and she'd accomplished the task beautifully. Now all she had to do was attend.

She took a deep breath. Her completely impractical high heels wobbled a bit as she steadied herself, preparing for the descent on the stairs. She touched her mask to make sure it was still properly in place. Feeling that it was, the straightened her back and stepped forward.

XXX

Draco sat in a low slung chair in a far corner of the hall. From this position, he could observe everything that was happening without being seen or pestered by the majority of the crowd. His usual Slytherin gang was strewn around him but he blocked them out. He'd acquired some bitter beverage from the floating tray and was now merely sipping for something to do.

He looked around at the setting. He had to admit that Granger had excellent taste. She'd managed to make a clichéd affair look elegant and classy. He was a particular fan of the polished wood dance floor. His eyes darkened hungrily as he thought of what he could do to her on that floor. Smirking to himself at the utter absurdity of the notion, he downed the last of his god-awful drink in one go.

He tossed his head, looking for something to occupy his interest. And he saw her. She was lurking in the shadow at the top of the stairs, looking out at the scene he had just been surveying. From here, he could not see the extent of her costume but he could tell it was elaborate.

"I'll be back," he said absently to the cronies lounging around him. They murmured something in response but he didn't hear it. Instead he got up, long legs carrying him swiftly to the front of the hall.

He wove his way between students and furniture until he came to the column of fabric nearest the stairs. He stealthily positioned himself behind a heavy black drape and looked up at the woman at the top of the landing. She'd come into the light now, looking as though she was steadying herself for a guillotine.

She was dressed in a floor length black dress that nipped in at the waist to an impossibly small circumference. The gown shimmered, reflecting off the lithe curves and wide hips of the siren. Her breasts threatened to escape the confining restraints of her corseted top in so tantalizing a curve, Draco forced his eyes elsewhere on her voluptuous frame in order to retain control. Along the neckline, small silver embellishments shook as she moved, throwing light away on the walls.

But her face held Draco the most. Her beauty was half hidden by a mask; the only mask that could ever deserve to represent her countenance. It seemed, however, that the accessory could not contain her exquisiteness and thus erupted in three beautiful feathers out of the top. She had filled in the skin visible through the mask with black so all he could see were two brilliant and mysterious orbs scanning the crowd. She had gathered her hair to one side, allowing it to fall across her shoulder in one continuous curl. Her lips were painted a deep rich cardinal red, shimmering with some unknown magic of their own.

Two steely blue eyes watched the vixen descend, black fabric parting to reveal one impossibly high heel. The dress hung on her frame, concealing everything from him yet revealing more then she would know. He saw the outline of her legs, the v where they met her torso, the curve of her stomach up to the narrowness of her waist, the fullness of her breasts, the curve of her shoulders. She was nearly at the bottom now. As he watched, she stumbled a little on a loose stone in the staircase. Instinctively, he reached out an arm.

Hermione grasped the limb that was thrust at her without bothering to see the face of her savior.

"Thank you," she cast absentmindedly.

"You are welcome miss." Her head snapped around. She knew that voice.

Draco Malfoy stood before her, sexier than she'd seen him yet. She knew she'd punish her psyche later for using that word but there was no other adequate adjective.

He wore fitted jeans that hung casually on his hips and accented the narrowness of his waist in proportion to his frame. His legs looked long, longer than she remembered. The hand that was not held out to her was hooked in the belt on his pants, pulling them down lightly and teasing her by barely concealing the flesh beneath. On top he wore a short sleeve black shirt over a long sleeve grey shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbow. The outline of the physique she knew quite well was just visible beneath the layers of fabric he wore. He'd let his hair fall more than usual and selective strands hung in front of his eyes in thick clumps. His gaze burned as he looked up at her, concealing his true emotions but letting her know that he had secrets swirling behind his cerulean wall.

"Darling, you dressed for me." Draco grinned wickedly at her. Her heart fluttered against the boning in her dress. She snapped out of it.

"I _beg_ your pardon," said Hermione, outraged that he dare use endearments with her.

"Well you look like something out of one of those nineteenth century romance novels you read," he remarked, skating that burning gaze down her frame.

Hermione fumed silently at both the fact that he noticed and the fact that she had a good stack of those books on her nightstand. She decided her best defense was attack.

"And what the hell are you supposed to be?" Venom flew at him.

He smiled at her darkly and turned around. Two intricately drawn wings shimmered on the back of his black shirt. They seemed to move lightly in the candle light, flickering from the flame of a sconce above their heads. He turned back to her, managing to maneuver himself a foot nearer her form. In a low voice only she could hear he murmured quietly.

"I'm an angel." She looked at him, slightly unsteadied by the possible double meaning in his words. _Yes. You are, aren't you? _His eyes were deep, hypnotic in the quality of their blue gaze. But before she could speak anything, she heard her name.

"Hey! Mione!" She turned. Ron was waving her over. He looked utterly ridiculous dressed in striped pants and an eye patch. A large owl on his shoulder hooted indignantly. She shook her head, looking back at Malfoy. He'd backed away, the stony wall resurrecting itself again in his visage. He nodded subtly, turning away from her before disappearing behind a velvet drape. Hermione watched him for a split second before turning back to the trio standing on the other side of the steps.

"Hi you guys!" She forced excitement into her voice as she came up to them. Ginny was dressed in a short green number topped with an extravagant hat. Hermione could only assume she was a Leprechaun. She did look cute with the red hair. Harry had on long black cape and frilly collared shirt. When he parted his lips to speak, Hermione saw the tips of two fangs. _Vampire_. She snorted internally. Turning to Ron, she studied him for a moment, still having not the faintest idea what he was.

"What are you?" She asked, eyeing Ron's outfit.

"I'm a wizard pirate!" He said it triumphantly for some reason. "It's just like a normal pirate except I have an owl, not a parrot."

"Or the parrot you ordered from the costume shop spoke only Danish," said Harry. Ron hit him in the back of the head.

"Hermione! You look great!" Ginny squealed, seeming to have her old attitude back.

"You really do look absolutely beautiful, Mione," said Ron, moving his hand to the small of her back. "I mean, you're always pretty but now you just look really really pretty." Hermione cringed inwardly both at the awkwardness of his compliment and the foreign feel of his hand on her back. She caught herself remembering the gentleness with which Malfoy had held her on the broom ride and comparing it the present situation. Ron was talking though so she shut the memory down.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. What did you say?" Ron's ears turned red.

"I said would you – ahem – like to dance with me?"

_No!_ Hermione slapped her inner monologue, hitching a plastered smile on her face. "Of course Ron. Let's go."

He grinned goofily and grabbed her hand. Hermione's heart fell a little. Ron pulled her onto the dance floor in the manner a mother would drag a child out of the street. Again she thought back to Malfoy. He'd held his hand out parallel to the floor in the manner of a Victorian gentleman. He'd elegantly bore her weight as she pressed on him to steady herself. And here was Ron, dragging her along like a toy. She sighed a little, gaze downcast. She felt something on the back of her neck. Turning her head up to the left, Hermione saw him, leaning on the back of an arm chair, beautiful icy orbs burning fire right through her.

XXX

**I'm not going to remark when Draco saves my chapter anymore. If I don't say anything just assume he did. Though if Draco's an angel let us sin so badly that even he can't help us.^_^ More sexiness to come. I actually had more to write but you know how I'm a 'moment' person and it was so clunky to stick the beginning of the next piece on the end of this chapter. Plus is was approaching 2800 words which is high for me. So I stopped and trusted you guys would be okay with a wait. It'll be worth it I promise. Review lovies!**


	20. Songs

**I'm not even going to bother with anything colorful this time. Do you know how long I've waited to post this scene? A LONG DAMN TIME. I know it's only been a day but this damn thing wrote itself last night instead of letting me sleep. So I post it and to hell with what anyone thinks. Read and Review. In that order. That's an order. ;)**

**Disclaimer: After reading the following you'll understand why I have no extra muse to vomit out a cute way of saying 'I don't own shit!' – though that wasn't a half bad attempt.**

XXX

The night had flown by. Song after song had started and slowly, the dance floor had filled to the edges. Hermione was exhausted. She'd been dancing for hours, moving from partner to partner and sometimes merely closing her eyes and letting the music engulf her alone. The pain spell was starting to wear off her shoes and she was aching to sit down and get away from the noisy dance floor.

Yet through the entire night, every dance she shared was observed by a third party. Malfoy had been watching her from a back corner of the hall all night. Now he had moved forward into a more prominent position in the seating arrangement and sat reclined in a low black chair. Hermione had been determinately ignoring him for three hours and was not about to stop now.

However the room was currently silent. No one moved. Professor Dumbledore had just stood up and a hush had fallen on the dancers. Hermione chuckled to herself quietly as she remembered the headmaster hopping up and down as the whole hall performed a classic line dance. He'd punctuated the festivity with a waltz around the floor with Professor Sprout who giggled the entire time, a little too full of fire whiskey. Merlin Hermione loved her teachers.

"Students. I hope you have all had a good time tonight." The crowd exploded in tirade of cheers and applause. Dumbledore smiled and raised his hand for quiet. "However, as it is late, this shall be the last song." Hermione stood up expectantly, looking for Ron to see if he would clumsily share this last dance with her. "If I could have everyone clear the dance floor, I would like the prefects as well as the head boy and girl to pair up in a final dance."

Hermione's stomach dropped. _What?_ How could Dumbledore do this? She had talked with him specifically about the fact that she wanted an open dance to the very end. And now _this_? She was currently standing behind a black curtain at the front of the hall near a door that lead off into a side hall. Chocolate orbs frantically scanned the crowd until they locked with crystal blue ones. Malfoy looked directly at her. His face was expressionless, but his eyes belied a secret hunger that she knew would be dangerous to encounter on a dance floor.

She knew what would happen if she accepted this dance. Hermione's imagination took hold again and this time, the images were too vivid for her to check. She saw herself, pressed deep into Malfoy's chest as he ran his hand up her sides, across her breasts, around her throat. She felt their hips sway with the low cello beat of a sweet song they would never dance to. She saw her eyes reduced to lust-fogged slits as he touched her as only he could. Whatever she told herself, she knew unrestrained emotion erupted when she and Malfoy came too near each other. She would not put herself through the public shame of allowing Malfoy to rip out her passion and hold it up for the world to see, her lust running down his arm. She couldn't let him do that to her.

She backed deeper into the curtain, shaking her head in terror. His eyes darkened threateningly but she still didn't move. He stood up as if to come and pull her onto the dance floor. She jumped, shaking a little. Fear wide in her face, she moved to the side door in the Great Hall. Without so much as a backward glance, she slipped out, leaving him alone as she disappeared into the dark of the corridor.

The headmaster's voice rang clearly over the students. "Mr. Malfoy, you seem to be shy one partner." The headmaster's eyes twinkled as Malfoy inclined his head in agreement.

Raising his glass of purple liquid, Malfoy remarked "Women. What can you do?" The hall tinkled with laughter and even the headmaster chuckled to himself. "I'm afraid, headmaster, I'll have to sit this one out." Again, the hall fluttered with the students' amusement. Malfoy's kept the smile on his face as he went to drain his glass. However when the cup came down, his eyes held a flickering anger that focused on the cracked door at the end of the hall.

XXX

Hermione ran. Her feet screamed at her, begging her to rest and end their agony. She ignored them, pushing forward, flying through the deserted halls. Her heels made sharp clicks on stone tiles, reverberating off the walls and driving daggers into her head, pinning images to her skull, refusing to give her peace. She ran faster, determined to reach the common room and quiet.

She arrived outside their portrait, breathless and shaking. She spat the password at the painting and it swung open before her. She threw herself inside and it slammed shut, the sound echoing hollowly of the carpet and wood. She leaned against the stone next to the portrait hole and closed her eyes. Touching her hand to her face, she pulled the mask off and set it on the table to her left. Silence assaulted her ears, washing away the images of the past four minutes and filling her mind with cold, blissful blackness. She relished the relief as she pushed off the heels of her shoes, abandoning them by the door and walking to an old record player situated by the fireplace.

She was glad to have something to focus on. She flipped through the black disks one at a time, reading the full title and registering it before she moved on. As she searched she took deep steadying breaths, securing herself to the polished wood mechanism before her. She forced herself to realize that nothing had happened. She hadn't made a fool of herself. Only the _opportunity _to look a fool had presented itself which she had craftily avoided. She was fine.

Hermione came upon a familiar title. She didn't remember the album exactly, but the artist was a woman her parents listened to. They told her it was from the 1930's in America. She place the record on the turntable and it began to spin of its own accord. A sweet, low female voice started softly. Humming words about a rainy Sunday and a black cup of coffee. Hermione closed her eyes again, smiling at the familiar memories the record brought up.

Suddenly she heard a muffled, angry voice from behind her. She turned quickly to see Malfoy throwing open the portrait and storming into the room. His face was livid. His eyes had changed to a deep, midnight blue. Anger roiled violently in their depths and gave the impression that the entire room was suddenly filled with a thunder storm. He moved forward until he was three feet away from her, burning as though he wished to incinerate her through looks alone.

"Would you mind telling me what the _fuck _that was about?" He spat at her, hatred dripping from every word.

Hermione concentrated all her strength into keeping her voice as steady as possible. "What do you mean?" Her tone was quiet, deceiving.

"I mean what the _hell_ are you thinking, walking out of that dance!" He was seething now, his breathing labored.

"I beg your pardon. I am a free woman and I have every right to – " he cut her off with a cry.

"Rights? You don't have any fucking rights to leave me standing down there alone." She shrank away slightly. She'd never seen him like this. It was almost fascinating if she weren't in the direct line of fire.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy!" Hermione was angry now. She set both fists against her hips in a defiant stance. "I think it's mighty bold of you to come up pretending like you can tell me what to do."

"Bold? No, bold would be telling you you're a bitch for walking out on me." His eyes sparked with the flavor of the words.

She flashed her own in return, anger starting to emerge now. "Walking out on _you_?" He spun violently away from her, one hand coming to rub the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, I thought I walked out on the dance. Of course the fact that it has wounded your little girl feelings is simply delicious and-"

He whirled back to her, coming forward in a rush of passion. His hand reached out and fastened under her neck, knife-edge in. His thumb and fingers wrapped around her delicate jaw, gripping her to him and effectively locking her in her position. "Of course you walked out on me that was _my_ - _fucking_ -_dance_ with you!"

"Easy there. You kiss your mother with that filthy mouth?" She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to retaliate with vicious words despite the fact he held her captive.

"No, but I'll kiss you." Before she could react he did it, pulling her cruelly toward him with the hand he held on her neck. The kiss was so brief she wasn't entirely sure it took place. His mouth was rough and hard, forcing his tongue inside and tasting her before he pulled away viciously. Hermione reared back her hand fully intending to smack him across the face, when she stopped – his eyes. Nothing but that look could have completely dissipated all revulsion from her being. They were the same midnight blue as she had seen when he entered. They were still full to bursting with that same anger that had come him with him and filled the air with a noxious gas. But there was one emotion she didn't expect, buried behind layers of hate, humiliation, and anger – hurt.

"Why?" His voice was low, a whisper across her cheekbones. "Why did you leave?" She studied him. His look was probing, desperately questioning her actions, and determined to find an answer. Unbidden and against everything she called upon in her willpower, tears came. They pooled on the edges of her black-rimmed eyes before falling like rain down her face, streaking across her pale skin.

Draco released her and she backed away, turning from him and keeping her head low. He left her alone, waiting until she initiated conversation, but never taking his eyes off her back. After several silent minutes she turned slightly, speaking to him over her shoulder. Her voice was soft, shaking a little with the after effects of her tears.

"I can't let them see." She looked up at him, her eyes still glossy.

"What?" He sounded desperate, begging for some form reconciliation.

She didn't say anything, but turned around to face him completely. She still had her head bowed, her hands knotting themselves together before her. He moved closer and she looked up at him, fear in her face. "What?" He repeated again, softly this time.

"What you do to me." Hermione saw the words register viscerally on his face, hunger growing in his visage. Before she had time to take back what she said, he attacked her mouth again. He tasted doubly sweet given that she'd had him just recently, but she broke the kiss quickly, pushing back away from him. He grabbed her wrists. She pulled against his strength, trying to break free but he held fast. She tried again, desperate to get away, to flee the sensations rolling in her stomach. Nothing that happened as a result of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger standing this close to one another could possibly be good.

"No." His voice was harsh, a command. To her own surprise she stopped, looking up into his face. His features had gone hard, cold. He spoke to her, voice sharp and exacting. "You _will _let me have this." His face burned into hers, commanding her being to obey him and damn it all if it didn't comply.

Hermione did not respond, merely allowing him to pull her back into his sphere. As he did, he spun her so that the soft curve of her back nested in the well-defined wall of his chest. She was so surprised at the movement that her arms ended up crossed over her abdomen, locked under his forearms. He pulled her hard against him, his fingers digging aggressively into the hip bones he could feel through her dress. The music from the record that had been so far away only moments ago came back to them, swelling to an unbearable intensity.

Draco began to sway subtly to the voice of a sultry songstress long since dead. Hermione moved with him allowing him to lead her body into the song. He pressed his hands to her hips, pushing her deeper into him, circling his fingertips slowly, feeling her body shake beneath his touch. She responded by pressing her hips hard against his figure, delighted when it didn't give way underneath her and thrilled as she elicited a low growl from between his teeth. She leaned back, resting her head lightly on the side of his. She heard him sigh softly above her. She closed her eyes, sinking into his protection.

Hermione slowly extracted one hand from its confine and he momentarily tightened his hold, afraid she would try to escape. She smiled a little. Escape was the _last_ thing on her mind. She ran her fingertips lightly up the bare skin of his arm. He hissed a little in her ear and she soothed him by cupping his face in a delicate embrace.

Draco closed his eyes in relief, turning his head to kiss the palm of the woman he had wrapped in his arms. Unbidden, Hermione began to cry again, her shoulders shaking against him. He didn't give her long to linger on the emotion as he placed a gentle kiss on the exposed shoulder before him. She inhaled sharply, the hand on his cheek moving behind his neck to ensure he continued his attack. Draco seemed perfectly content to stay put as his tongue darted out, tasting the salt on her skin.

Hermione moaned quietly as he bit down deliciously hard enough to leave a mark. He ran his hand up her side and across her stomach. She gasped as his hand brushed up the side of her breast and skated across the exposed flesh left uncovered by her dress. Draco pressed his fingers lightly into the fullness of the flesh, not asking permission – simply taking what he had wanted since the beginning of the night. She threw her head back, resting against the full muscle of his deltoid in hopes of finding some anchor against the pleasure raging through her body. She felt Draco smile against her neck, nipping lightly before releasing the skin.

She didn't have time to protest the release when she felt his mouth at her ear. Shivers ran violently down her spine as he spoke to her.

"Is this what I do to you?" She bit down on her lip, determined not to give him a response. He quickly ran his hand back down her side, brushing the outer curve of her breast again before coming to rest dangerously close to her inner thigh. She cried out against the unexpected intrusion, her mouth open in a gasp of pleasure.

"Answer me. Is _this_ what I do to you?"

"Oh gods yes," whispered Hermione softly, not trusting herself with anything louder. He laughed darkly in her ear, the satisfied power of the sound causing Hermione to clench her hand again on the back of his neck. He kissed her shoulder once more, his tongue smoothing along the bite he'd left earlier. He spoke between kisses.

"You knew this would happen when you wore that goddamn dress." Hermione opened her eyes with a snap and yanked her head up to look at him. His eyes were brilliant blue, filled with the satisfaction of victory of a hard-fought battle.

"What?" She asked, confused. He didn't respond, just turned her frame slowly in his arms so the fullness of her figure pressed against the conditioned muscle of his own. He smirked at her, refusing to answer and lowered his face to hers.

He twined their mouths in a slow, seductive kiss. His hands found the impossible slimness of her waist and pulled her to him sharply. She smiled at the rough force of him, skimming her hands along the hem of his shirt. She slipped her fingers beneath the fabric, pushing up across the hard expanse of his back, feeling the flexing cords beneath her touch as he held her against him. He shivered lightly under her ministrations, the sensation too much even for him to bear. She tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss. Almost without thought, she parted her lips against the feel of his tongue, inviting him to taste her warmth.

He accepted, kissing across the full expanse of her lips before thrusting back into her mouth. Her own tongue met his, grappling for dominance but never truly trying to unhand his control. He kissed down across her jaw, over her neck to her shoulder, intermingling bites with mind numbing swipes of his tongue. She withdrew one arm from beneath his shirt, lacing her fingers through his hair, fisting her hand and holding him desperately to her, begging him not to stop the torture she so masochistically yearned for. She was an instrument upon which he played and she was absolutely powerless to stop him. Her mind was blissfully, erotically blank. Not filled with Ron's clumsiness or Ginny's judgment or Harry's anger. There was only the man before her who was holding her, kissing her, owning her beautifully.

He kissed his way back up to her face, placing a light peck on each cheek bone before pressing his mouth fully to hers again. They devoured each other, properly embracing without worry of discovery or acceptable behavior. Air flowed harshly from one to the other, only serving the purpose of keeping them alive so as to continue their fervent depravity. The feel of Draco's figure pressed so tightly against her own sent violent spasms through her body. His powerful hands drew circles on her hips, grinding her to him, trapping her within his reach.

The songstress on the record resonated the final note of her song through the muffled speaker of the record player. Draco lifted his mouth from hers, ending the passionate embrace with a light brush of his lips on hers. Hermione left her eyes shut for a moment, groping for control. At last she looked up at him, encouraged by his hand under her chin.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, breath gentle on her face.

He placed a final, light kiss on her mouth, barely more than a gentle pressure, before releasing her and backing away. Suddenly regaining feeling in her legs, Hermione stepped backward. She turned to her door, pulling away from his hand lingering on her waist. Without so much as a whisper, she disappeared into the confines of her bedroom. Draco watched her go, eyes focusing on the rustle of her dress against the polished wood of the door closing behind her.

"What are you?"

XXX

**OH MY GOD! I HAVE HAD THIS SCENE PLAYING OVER AND OVER IN MY HEAD FOR WEEKS! Thank God I can finally get it down on paper for you. Take that clichéd Halloween dance! Bam! I even broke my 3000 word limit for you guys on this chapter. Aren't you happy? Do you now see my pets why they haven't done anything really interesting for chapters? It's because THIS was waiting for them! All though damn it all if Draco's fine self isn't going to melt the url right off this fanfiction page. You know you're pathetic when your own story makes you catch your breath and fix your hair. He he he. Review my sweethearts. I love you!**

**Also, I don't remember who said it last round of review but someone told me they love my enthusiasm. I want to personally thank you for saying that because I love my storyand I want other people to love my story and when they do it makes me SO FREAKIN HAPPY. ^_^ Love you all lots. Remember, what do we do at the end of a hot chapter? That's right! We review! Now go!**

**Also # 2, I have a poll on my profile page. Go take it! It's for giggles. Go take it AFTER you review that is. Go!**


	21. Enemies

**Hi my birdies. I have some rather sad news. I'm going back to school which means I won't be able to write as much. I'm going to try to build up a stock of chapters so I can at least give you one a month. But it isn't going to be this lovely two to three a week that we've had going this summer. But don't worry. I am NOT abandoning it! I have too many wonderful ideas and love you all too much to leave you high and dry – again. ****I'll be able to write again at Christmas at the latest and probably a chapter or two over Thanksgiving. Please don't abandon me! I still love you and I am still going to write for you! I swear! Kisses!**

**Ok. Happier news. I stumbled upon a wonderful band by the name of Galt Aureus. They are beautiful and I hope you will go visit their site and support them as they are yet unsigned. ****Our Own Verailles and Citadels are my two favorites at the moment. Of course they are the only two I've listened to since I limit myself to two songs before I actually listen to the whole CD – which is on the way. lol**

**And last but hopefully not least! I am going to reveal to you something you probably don't know about me. I was drawing and coloring long before I ever started writing fanfiction. I've kept my art and my fanfiction separate because I didn't want to look like I was bragging being able to do both. I only decided to start writing fanfiction when I thought I had enough skill to create a story that people would read. Also, I've read a lot of stories and never come across a Dramione one with this kind of relationship. So I started to write my own. HOWEVER, I did decide to draw Hermione in her gown and mask at the ball. If you don't want to look at it because you like the image in your head that is perfectly fine. But if you would like to see the Hermione in my imagination, she's on my profile.**** Same policy with my stories, don't like don't look. I may draw Draco one day but I really hate drawing guys so maybe not. Enjoy.**

**Ok that was a really long Author's note. But I figured I had to give you all something to compensate for the impending lack of Draco. Boo hoo.**

**Disclaimer: You know what would be really nice right now? A sexy, blond, muscular man to comfort me in my sorrow. Sadly I do not own one. I guess I'll have to settle for a stuffed animal.**

XXX

_Open it. Go. Open it – now. _Hermione had been standing on the bedroom-side of her door for the better part of twenty minutes, trying to force herself to walk through. She'd heard heavy footsteps behind the thick wood quite some time ago and had not yet mustered up the courage to go meet them. She'd managed to get the door cracked, spilling light into her room. Through the flickering sliver of light she saw muscular legs stretched out on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles, simply waiting.

She felt something one her leg. Looking down, she saw Crookshanks dancing around her feet. She was amused for a second, but the amusement was swiftly replaced by terror.

"No Crookshanks, no!" She whispered, stooping quickly to try to stop the cat. Too late. He stretched his orange figure tall, pushing against the already loosened door. Hermione's stomach drop. _Great. A cat is braver than I am. _She stood up quickly, righting herself to meet the flood of light from the fire in the common room.

Draco sat before her, delicious frame stretched elegantly across a chair, booted feet propped up on the coffee table. He was reading something and did not look up when he heard the door creak. _Damn him. Fine. I'll just have to start the conversation._

"We need to talk." _Wonderful. Don't bother with a greeting despite the fact that he had you gasping for air last night on more than one occasion._

He still didn't look up. Crookshanks had found his hand that was thrown casually over the arm of the chair and was currently licking it, seeking attention. Malfoy chuckled, looking down at the cat, and obliged by scratching his chin.

"Did you hear me? We need to talk." She fisted her hands on her hips, attempting to look formidable.

At last he looked up at her. His eyes had not quite lost the deep blue color of the night before. They were more diluted though, appearing closer to grey this morning. However, they still burned a fiery path through her, evaporating what little courage she'd gathered. "So talk." _God damn him. Damn him to hell._ Brushing aside the vision of him shirtless and sweating as he worked off his sins eternally in a pit of fire, she straightened her back.

"About last night." He didn't say anything, didn't react, just continued watching her with that hypnotic gaze.

Of course he was going to make this difficult. "You should know something. Last night, Ginny thought I seemed tense so, to help calm me down, she spiked my drink with fire whiskey." _Liar. _He still didn't say anything. "So – what I said and my behavior – it was because of her." She took a breath. "It wasn't real." _You cowardly liar. _Hermione scolded herself internally, hating that she even said the words.

Hermione hid the shame from Draco as she watched him. His face was impassive but more so than usual. The wall behind his eyes was taller than ever, not even allowing her to see whether or not there was emotion behind them. He'd hardened himself against her and it tugged at her heart to see him that way. But he still didn't speak.

"Say something, damn it." She couldn't take the silence. He looked down and exhaled. "Fine." It was barely more than a whisper. His eyes averted, he rose slowly to his feet.

He walked to her slowly, prolonging the time in which they were separated. _Oh God please don't let him do this. I can't take it right now. Make him stop._ She didn't think she had the will to resist him this morning. He kept moving, entering her personal space, assaulting her with his beauty. His scent wafted to caress her nostrils, a combination of spring water and cedar, a deliciously clean smell. He was right in front of her now, barely more than a half a foot away.

He caught her eyes with his own. Her breath hitched a little. They were dark again, stormy, all the more frightening because she knew the anger he'd unleashed on her last night was present, but contained. She couldn't read them this time. His wall held fast, shielding her from his true emotions.

"Fine." He said it even more softly this time, a breeze in the air which she felt across her forehead. "It wasn't – real." He paused, seeming as if to have something else to say. Nothing came.

_Oh kiss me you idiot, even though it will totally destroy my claim and I'll have to kill you for it afterward._ He brought his face closer to her, tilting his head slightly to the left. Hermione closed her eyes, ready for the blow to fall.

"This isn't real." The words hit her like a sledge hammer. She forced her eyes open as quickly as she could, but not quickly enough. She looked upon a common room populated only by a sleeping cat and the soft thud of a closing portrait hole.

XXX

Hermione sat in the back of Professor Becks' class tapping the end of her quill on the page before her. She was in no mood to sit through a lecture today, preferring instead to stew in her own emotional turbulence. The class had already lasted twice as long as she felt was normal. Looking down at her notes, she saw that she'd barely written more than half a page. She shook herself trying to regain focus and cast her gaze about the room.

Malfoy was sitting a table over from her. He'd arrived seconds before the bell rang so she pretended the seats had all been full. _You really need to stop lying. It's unhealthy. _She batted away the comment and continued her quiet perusal. He stared resolutely forward, refusing to give her the satisfaction of eye contact. Suddenly, a quiet smirk stirred the corners of his mouth.

He raised his hand. Hermione's stomach dropped a fraction, uncertain of what he would do but positive it couldn't be good.

Professor Becks stopped her lecture to Lavender Brown on the effect of sleep on study habits and looked at Malfoy, surprise in her face.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you have a question?"

His eyes were bright, beautiful. That smirk still hung quietly on his sculpted lips, foretelling a disaster.

"Yes Professor. If I were to give you a hypothetical situation, could you tell me what rationale one of the characters is following?"

She looked slightly taken aback. "Well, this class is Logic and Human Behavior, so I'll do my best."

Malfoy inclined his head in appreciation. "Let us pretend that Person A and Person B had an interaction. However, a short while after the interaction, Person B pretends the interaction was something _other_ than what it was. What would be Person B's motivation?"

_You sodding son of a bitch._ Hermione stared straight ahead at Professor Becks, pretending to be absorbed in her next sentence.

The Professor looked amused, obviously not expecting the intricacies Malfoy presented.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, several options come to mind. Now I studied Muggle Psychiatry for a year in America just to see what it was and they taught me several things. I know muggles and wizards are different, but for the sake of argument we'll pretend they behave the same. First, I would automatically think that Person B was in denial about the interaction between the two."

"How so?" Malfoy interrupted her.

"Well, Person B might be suffering from displacement in which the true emotions are disguised behind another device. This usually aids them in denying the actual gravity of the situation."

Malfoy nodded. "Thank you professor. That's all I needed to know." Professor Becks looked surprised, as if she had been prepared to talk for another twenty minutes on the subject. She studied him for a moment longer then returned to her original lecture.

Malfoy sat back contentedly in his chair, stretching his legs out before him. Hermione watched him with her head angled slightly so as to get a better view. His smirk had grown, pulling his beautiful, powerful mouth up into a look of delicious contentment. Hermione shivered. She would pay for this later.

Fortunately just then the bell rang. The loud sound forced its way through Hermione's fogged brain, jolting her back to reality. She turned to her books, gathering them in her arms before hurrying out the door. She couldn't go back to the common room now. It was too risky. Instead, she checked if she had all her homework in her bag. The stars smiled upon her as she indeed was carrying everything she needed to do.

Deciding she would vacate to the grounds for a few hours, she made a left out of the classroom and hurried away down the corridor. Unbeknownst to her, two crystalline eyes watched her from an alcove, studying the unconscious sway of fabric around her figure.

XXX

Malfoy lay luxuriously across the coffee table in the common room. He'd originally begun by perching himself on the solid wooden edge and ended up falling backward rather than walk the few steps to the couch. One arm was stretched over his head, causing his muscles to pull taught against his flesh. He was waiting for Granger to come back. He hadn't seen her at dinner nor elsewhere since their Logic class. He knew she'd give him a piece of her mind and he had to confess he was looking forward to it. However, now he was growing impatient.

He sat up suddenly, checking the clock by the door. It was nearly nine o'clock. He'd begun to feel slightly curious about her, wondering where she'd gone off to. He stood, walking to the portrait hole. He was going to look for her.

He stepped out of the portrait and wandered down the hall. The corridor was deserted, everyone had finished or nearly finished dinner and the curfew was approaching. One of the many perks of being Head Boy was that he didn't have to obey the absurd curfew.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he sauntered, eyes scanning every inch of the stone castle he could find. He walked down a back flight of stairs. Draco wasn't a man to agitate about other human beings yet here he was. He laughed at himself slightly, knowing his hypocrisy was showing. He approached the stairs that took him down to the back of the Great Hall. He heard muffled voices coming from a handful of straggling students still lingering at dinner. He taken one step down when he saw her.

She lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs against a wall. Her beautiful throat was arched back, tilted at an odd angle. Her legs were bent under her, looking as though they had collapsed unconsciously under her weight. One arm lay limply across her bag, the hand facing palm up to the ceiling. The other was twisted viciously around her back, wrenched in an agony she could not feel in her current state. But her face terrified Draco the most. Her lips were parted lightly, allowing a wisp of breath to pass in and out. Her eyes were closed as though dead. Her pale skin looked clammy in the flicker of a torch. _No._

Draco threw himself down the stairs, taking three and four steps at a time. He fell beside her, his hands automatically pulling her into his arms, enveloping her figure.

"Hermione. Hermione." He shook her slightly, brushing the hair off her face with gentle finger tips. "Goddammit Granger. Wake up. Granger!" His last word was a shout, full of a barely concealed horror and shaking with unbidden anger. She didn't move. She lay in his arms, limp and pallid. His fingers reached for her throat, feeling for the rhythmic beat of life that would save her. Nothing. His beautiful eyes slipped closed, shutting out the image as he pressed his finger harder to her vein. _Please. Please no._

_Thump._ Draco's eyes snapped open and he exhaled loudly in relief. "You tease," he whispered to her, a dark smile gracing his lips for the briefest of moments. Suddenly he heard two pairs of heavy footsteps from behind him. He turned his head to see Potter and Weasel sprinting toward him as fast as they could.

"What the fuck did you– " Ron began, turning his head in fear toward Hermione's pale visage.

"Before you start blaming me I didn't do anything," said Draco, shifting his weight and preparing to stand. "I found her like this as I was coming down the stairs. She's alive but I don't know what happen. We need to get her to the hospital wing." He made a motion to lift her but Harry snarled violently and leapt forward.

"_We_ aren't doing anything, Malfoy. Get your filthy hands off of her." Anger flared in cold eyes but he forced it down, releasing her even as every fiber of him screamed to hold on. Harry slipped his arms beneath her form, lifting her quietly with little effort. Malfoy watched him leave, cradling the Head Girl against his chest.

Weasel was talking. Draco turned to see the willowy read head hissing at him.

"If I find out you did this, ferret, I swear I will – "

"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Malfoy in an impressive imitation of calm, "You'll rip my fucking head off. Got it."

Weasel didn't say anything. He spun on his heel and, with a furious glance back at Malfoy, hurried after Potter's retreating figure.

As soon as the two of them were out of sight, Malfoy ran. He sprinted all the way back to the common room. Wrenching open the portrait hole, he threw himself inside kicking over a table in agony. He stared around the room, breathing hard, panic assaulting his beautiful gaze. He threw himself forward, pitting both hands against the back of the couch.

Draco gripped its soft cover with all his strength to steady himself, to calm his fears. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, groping for stability in the depths of his mind, for something to reassure him. He tried to regulate his breathing, timing the gasps with the consistent ticks of the clock. But his nerves would not allow it. A cry tore from his throat. His head wrenched up, vomiting the agony to the high arched ceiling above him. The roar was deep and primal, carrying all his fear and protective instincts for the girl he had watched carried away in the arms of his enemy.

XXX

**Awwww. Poor Draco. I love him. A lot. If you didn't see it above I've drawn a pretty picture for you guys. Please go look at if you want to. And review. Review lots and lots.**


	22. Flowers

**Oh my. I manage to give you another one. Look at me! This might be the last one for a while, but I figured you could survive easier with this being your last since it nicely deals with the previous chapter. Sidenote, thank you so much for everyone's reviews! I don't have time to answer them all but I'm so very touched that you guys think I'm one of the better Dramione's out there! It's amazing that this thing that started out as kind of a throwaway has grown into this piece that you love. I've even managed to convert some non-shippers to shippers! Thank you so much! Also if you haven't seen the picture of Hermione and would like to, the link is on my profile. Review darlings!**

**Disclaimer: So I'm strutting along in my super high red heels walkin' down a busy street to the headquarters of character ownership. I strut right through those big shiny doors and into a carpeted lobby full of important people wearing expensive suits. I walk up to the first ownership agent I see and I say "I have a few characters that I need to own."**

…**I'm back on the street, not strutting quite so much and with now ownerships whatsoever.**

XXX

"Who do you think you're talking to, Harry?" Hermione looked at her green-eyed companion indignantly. He'd just spent the last twenty minutes interrogating her about her evening of the day before. The sky was a fiery red-orange, cutting through the windows of the Hospital Wing and erupting into brilliant strips on the marble floor.

Harry raised his hands in defense, fingers spread in confusion. "All I'm saying Hermione is that we find you lying unconscious on the floor and Draco Malfoy standing over you looking down. What would you have us think?"

Hermione's mouth opened in astonishment. "God damn it Harry he's a moron not a sadist."

"Could have fooled me." Ron spoke this time, looking at her through a jagged lock of red hair falling over his face. She tossed him a glance of loathing before turning back to Harry.

"I've told you I don't know what happened but I was alone when it did." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the mass of garish flowers they had brought her. A haphazard arrangement of orange blue and pink screamed at her from beside the bed. She'd tried to refuse them but they'd forced her to keep the bouquet, placing it on her nightstand as though daring her remove them.

"But if you were alone, how can you be sure it wasn't him." Harry had a hint of pride buried under his façade of concern. He was apparently pleased with himself for coming up with this particular inconsistency in her story.

She threw up her hands exasperatedly, looking up as though searching the rafters for some answer to her maddening problem. "_What _do you want me to say? Do you want me to lie and make you feel better? Do you want me to tell you that it was Malfoy who ravaged me and then threw me down the stairs to prove a point?" She ignored the fact that were the stairs replaced with a table that particular statement would be true. Ron looked angry now.

"Well it would be better than this lie you keep spouting. Just tell us what happened. I promise we won't be mad."

"So you would rather me invent a story that paints Malfoy as some spawn of Lucifer rather than listen to the truth I've been telling you for the last half hour? You are supposed to be my friends! Why won't you believe me?" She was growing weary, tired of trying to make them understand.

"Because Hermione it doesn't make sense." She threw her head away from them, turning from Harry's accusatory gaze. She raised her voice, calling for Madame Pomfrey. The nurse came bustling out from behind her glass office door.

"Yes Miss Granger? Can I help you?" She looked eager, her lips slightly pursed as she eyed Harry and Ron. Visitors still made her uneasy.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but my headache has come back and I really would like to get some sleep." She spoke convincingly, almost believing it herself.

"Of course dear. I'll be back in a moment." She hurried off, apparently as enthusiastic to rid the ward of visitors as Hermione was. Hermione turned back to her companions to see their shocked faces.

"What? You won't listen to me and nothing else I say will convince you. Therefore I'm going to use this time to sleep and recover my strength." Hermione kept her gaze averted, studying the interlocking weave of her hospital blanket.

Ron looked dumbstruck, reaching a hand forward to try to take her own.

"Don't touch me Ronald." Her voice was low, nearly masked by the sound of the hasty footsteps of the nurse returning.

"I'm sorry boys but you'll have to leave. She needs rest and quiet. You can come see her tomorrow." She walked forward, partially blocking their path to Hermione's bed. The two boys stood, both towering over the feisty little witch but not remotely matching her vigor.

Harry looked past her to Hermione even as Madame Pomfrey chivvied them out of the room. "Please Hermione, you have to listen to us. This isn't how Malfoy acts. You know it isn't! You know – " his last words were cut off by the heavy door closing on the two of them.

_It isn't how the Malfoy you know acts._ She berated herself silently for allowing the words to come into her head. The nurse was back at her bed now, holding a bottle of some olive green liquid. She poured out a small amount in a glass on the bedside table.

The nurse extended the glass to her with orders to drink it down in one. Hermione took the glass but didn't immediately drink. She studied the woman's face, displaying a kind sincerity on her own.

"I hate to ask, Madame Pomfrey. But I think these flowers are giving me allergies. Could you maybe –"

"Say no more dear." She picked up the tasteless display and whisked it away from the bed. As she reached her office, she turned to Hermione reminding her to take the medicine. Hermione laughed, tilting the bitter liquid into her mouth.

At once she felt a pleasant heaviness fall over her body. She set the glass down clumsily beside her. Turning to her right side, she snuggled under the covers as she allowed sleep to claim her figure.

XXX

Hermione opened her eyes. She was curled up on her side under several hospital blankets. She felt lazily warm and calm, not wishing to move from her spot. The room was dark now. Bands of moonlight fell across the empty beds causing the white blankets to glow lustrously. She figured she would just go back to sleep when she heard a breath from behind her. She turned around, investigating the source of the noise.

Draco Malfoy sat beside her bed, reclined in the quintessential male fashion of sitting. His long legs stretched out before him, knees bent slightly so as to allow his feet to be flatly planted on the floor. One hand hung slackly over the arm of the cheap hospital chair. The other was at his mouth, gently tracing back and forth over his bottom lip in a display of bottled anxiety.

"Hello." His voice was quiet, careful not to disturb the quiet darkness of the office across the ward.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione was slightly but not altogether surprised by his presence before her. She cringed inwardly a little, thinking this was the second time she hadn't bothered with the politeness of formalities.

"Managing to get in here without fear of Pothead or the Weasel spotting me and attempting to attack me school-girl style."

"You know they have names. It's Harry Potter and Ron Weasley." Malfoy cocked his head slightly looking at her as though contemplating her statement.

"Yeah, I'm going to go ahead and call them Pothead and Weasel. If I get bored of that they can be Harriet and Rosaline if that makes you feel better."

Unbidden a slight smile crept into Hermione's face. It was only a lightening of the eyes and a twitch of the mouth, but she knew Draco saw. She changed the subject quickly.

"What time is it?"

He sat up, straightening himself in the chair. "It's a little after two o'clock." Her eyes went wide.

"Two o'clock? How the hell did you get out of the dormitory and in here without confrontation at _two o'clock_ in the morning?" He smirked at her.

"You know for a bookworm you really don't read all you could. You know that head's packet we got before the start of school? It says Head's are exempt from curfew provided they can support the exemption. And – " She interrupted him.

"And since you can talk your way out of a paper bag, you figured you'd exploit that privilege."

"Exactly." He paused for a moment, looking at her. His eyes darkened momentarily as he studied her face. Her color had returned and though she looked tired, she seemed to have recovered most of her strength. His next words were soft, low in the gentle hum of the castle. "What happened?"

She put on a brave face, watching him. "Madame Pomfrey said it was malnutrition combined with lack of sleep and a slight virus." His face watched her, adopting a shielded incredulity. "I went out into the grounds this afternoon to do homework. I guess I just lost track of the time. I was feeling a little nauseous this morning but I just credited it to –" she broke off. She'd been about to say 'a late night' but she wanted to steer as far away from the topic of their dance as possible. No such luck however.

"To what?" His voice pierced her thoughts, forcing her back on her original conversation.

"To a late night." She looked at him, searching his face for some kind of reassurance. She found none and he said nothing. She changed the topic quickly.

"So anyway, I think I was just overtired and a little ill and it just all caught up with me. Nothing seriously wrong. Madame Pomfrey says I'll be good to leave by morning. She wanted to keep me here overnight just to make sure that I was completely recovered. Speaking of which I should be sleeping now." She looked at his face, searching for some clue as to his intentions of movement.

To her utter delight, his face held a look of challenge, as though he was saying to her 'Make me.' He spoke to her, his words carefully concealing his bitterness. "Potty thinks I did it."

"I know." She said the words softly, willing him to put the anger aside."But you didn't."

He looked up at her, eyes alight with a combination of annoyance and amusement. "And that took you all of what, ten seconds to figure out?"

"What can I say? I'm smart." He chuckled slightly. She asked him hesitantly, "How did you find me? They boys wouldn't tell me anything except you were standing over me."

"Of course they didn't." Anger flared in his voice unexpectedly, cleaving through the air between them and hitting her like a shock wave. He appeared to calm himself, however, as his next words were soft. "I was walking down to the Great Hall, taking a back way for my own entertainment when I came to the top of the stairs. You were at the bottom lying against a wall. When I went to you, I felt for a heartbeat then prepared to take you to the hospital wing. Potter and Weasel found me and took you. I went back to the dormitory. That's all. We didn't know what happened just that you needed to get care."

She listened silently, watching his expression. A slight smile twisted her face.

"What?" He asked in a low, gruff tone.

"Did anyone say the word 'tease' while I was unconscious?" She saw his eyes flare briefly, sparking with surprise.

"Yes." He said the word flatly, succinctly. Of course he was going to make this difficult.

"Who said it?"

"I did." Her stomach jolted.

"Why?" Before he could answer, a shifting sound came from the corner that housed Madame Pomfrey's office. They both looked at it quickly, fearing discovery.

She turned back to him. He had just risen out of his chair, a clear indication he was going to leave. "Where are you going?" Her voice carried more desperation than she had hoped to convey. He looked down at her, well muscled frame obscuring most of her field of vision.

"I had better go. I can talk my way out of a lot, but I don't really feel like trying to justify a two a.m. visit to the hospital wing over a stomach flu." She nodded silently, trying her best to hide her disappointment from him.

He moved suddenly raising his arm. His hand lightly brushed back the hair that had fallen down from behind her ear during their conversation. He cupped the same hand around her face pulling her eyes up to meet his. She saw the worry there, the fear that he'd suffered while Harry and Ron sat with her like idiots.

His thumb gently rubbed the side of her face, smoothing over her soft cheekbones. _Thank Merlin she didn't hurt herself in the fall._ Suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. He shut his eyes tight, searching for a hand hold to save him from the pit of emotions he was currently drowning in. He heard her sigh.

Hermione had her eyes closed, her hand resting on his slim waist as he held her to him. His lips felt like fire on her skin, torturously burning a scar where he held them motionless on her head. He released her, pulling away to look down into her face.

His eyes were turbulent, swirling with so many emotions she marveled that he kept them all contained.

"Please," he whispered to her softly so that the empty room would not hear. "Please do not do that to me again."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. She nodded imperceptibly, indicating her consent.

He lowered his head slightly, conveying he'd understood. Then, in no more than the rustle of his dark jeans and the light thump of booted feet on stone, he was gone.

XXX

**I wanna be sick and be visited by Draco in the middle of the night! :'( Ok. I considered making Hermione hurt by someone else, but then that just brings a third party into the picture. Thus making the fight him vs. someone else as opposed to him vs. her. Since they haven't really confessed anything yet I thought that would be awkward. So instead, we have another wonderful display of why we love Draco. Now he can be mad at her for not looking after her health. Right? Good. Now review. Thank you my lambs!**


	23. Bruises

**50,000 Hits! You all are so utterly wonderful I can't even describe to you how much! And 300 reviews! You hit a lot of benchmarks last chapter so now…Happy happy happy happy happy new chapter! I'm so pleased with myself! I've had this open on my computer for the last two weeks and every time I had a mental block with school I would go and write a few paragraphs. It was actually about half as long as this and I know this is a short chapter. But I fluffed it out with some pretty descriptions and nice happy detail – though that was mostly because I don't have any idea where this is going after this…so I figured I'd give you at least SOMETHING to chew on while I figure out how to get them through exams. **

**Also, I've been re-reading the first ten-ish chapters and I really see how immature my writing was. Sooo I'm going to be trying to rewrite some of those chapters. I feel like I know my characters now and I'm serious about finishing this story as opposed to when I started. Originally I just started to see if anyone would read…and you guys did! Thank you so so so so so much!**

**Disclaimer: *Me at jewelry counter with fiancé I don't have* "Hi! We're getting engaged and we wanted to buy a ring. We were wondering if we could see some of your rings?"**

**Salesman: *grins evily because he thinks we're gullible* "Well this is our most expensive piece." *holds up big beautiful diamond***

**Me: "What's it called? It is beautiful!"**

**Salesman: "It's called the diamond people buy when they own rights to their characters."**

**Me: *looks lovingly toward fiancé with big, begging, puppy-dog eyes.***

**Fiancé: "No." **

XXX

The wind cut violently across the air, tearing aggressively at the cloak Draco had thrown across his back. The heavy grey canvas fanned out behind him giving him the impression of a griffin hovering above prey. The sky behind him was lit with a brilliant bloody light thrown by the sun dying behind the tree-line. He sat easily on his broom, head thrown up, one hand lazily keeping his support steady. His steely eyes concentrated on the speeding players beneath him. He focused particularly on the red obscurely shaped ball that flew from person to person with direct precision.

"McLot!" His voice broke through the air, directed at a stocky black-haired boy currently in possession of the quaffle. The boy turned. "Hold it tighter! They'll steal it from you if you don't hug it to you!" He saw the boy nod and fly away with the red sphere pressed close to his chest.

Draco muttered to himself, commending the boy on his improved form. The other two seekers tried and failed to steal the ball from him as he flew down the pitch, dodged the keeper, and scored what would be a goal. They'd been practicing for several hours, fighting through the cold and the wind. Draco personally hated practicing in cold weather but he knew the practice was imperative for a team. He was generally pleased with the outcome, smiling a little to himself.

He heard a sudden shout from across the field. Assuming someone was injured, he straightened and scanned his players. They were all staring at him, waving violently as if to alert him of something. He didn't understand. Then he heard a familiar whistling in the air. He turned his head. A solid mass of dark leather was hurtling straight at him. His body was slack, unconcerned with evasion given that he'd been watching the team from above and not actually training himself. He had no time to move. Instinctively he tucked his torso, curling his arm around his head to await the blow.

The ball struck hard, not slowing down as it exacted a violent cry from the exposed throat of the seeker. The leather mass flew off, determined to continue on its path of destruction as the world went black before the eyes of its latest victim.

XXX

Draco opened his eyes. He was kneeling on the jagged turf on the Quidditch field on all fours. Beside him lay his broom, thrown casually away when he'd hit the ground. Above him he heard his beaters yelling incoherently. He assumed they were gathering up the balls. He shut his eyes again, hands sinking deep into the grass beneath him, transferring the pain in his arm to the foliage below him.

_Damn._ He thought as the memory of a speeding brown ball came back to him. He remembered the impact, his disoriented flight to the ground, and the yells of his team in some far distance. He had rolled off his broom, coming to an abrupt halt when the ground made violent contact with his arm. _That really fucking hurt._ He breathed deeply, body shuddering slightly as he tested the limb. Forcing his face into a controlled indifference, he threw his head up. His team stood around him tentatively, watching to see whether he needed help. He forced down the pain and rose powerfully to his feet.

"Alright guys. That's enough. We're done for tonight. Same time on Monday." They watched him warily as he strode away. He held his arm gingerly, the discomfort restricting his movement more than was natural. He heard his players move toward the showers and sighed.

He'd been distracted. It was an amateur's mistake owed mainly to his mind not being entirely on the field. Granger had gotten out of the hospital three days ago and they still had yet to see each other. He too was being stubborn, determined to make her come to him after her most recent denial of the palpable tension in the air. He hated her now. Whatever he told her at two in the morning didn't change the fact that she was blatantly denying reality. Granted, it was only after she'd gotten sick that Draco had admitted to himself at there being _something_ between them, greater than their sexual attraction.

He trudged up the lawn, not bothering to keep the pant out of his breath now that he was alone. He needed to get back to the dormitory and examine the damage. He was sure it was nothing a shot of fire whiskey couldn't cure. "Fuck," he muttered quietly. He'd stumbled on a piece of uneven ground and his wrist had jolted painfully.

The entrance hall was deserted when he at last came upon it. The late hour forced any stragglers away into their houses long ago. He walked silently across the wide expanse of marble and ascended the stairs. He welcomed the smooth, uninterrupted terrain of the room as it prevented his injury from further movement. One at a time his heavy boots fell against the steps on the end of the room, echoing loudly in the vacant air. The pant in his breath had returned, not so much from the climb itself but from his careful balance of broom and arm in one.

He reached the top and paused, collecting himself. He turned, gliding silently down the hall. Again, he saw no one. He relished the solitude. Somehow, the lack of other beings allowed the constant thoughts in his head to die leaving a light, blissful quiet. He approached their portrait, cradling his arm lightly against him. _Here we go._ Draco watched the ornate painting for a moment, recalling briefly ever difficult conversation that had occurred on the other side. He took a deep breath and pushed it open.

XXX

Hermione sat curled on the couch in the common room. She'd donned a knee-length floral night gown in powder blue for the evening. It was perhaps a bit light for November but she compensated with the eccentric blue shawl hugging her shoulders. She smiled a little to herself. She enjoyed her Professor Trelawney-esque attire this evening. It made her feel quite Victorian. An arithmancy text lay open on her lap to a page with a particularly vexing example problem.

She looked over to her notes, examining a homework problem to find an error. A creak denoted the portrait hole opening. Hermione looked up. Malfoy stepped through the entrance. His long Quidditch robe draped over the door behind him, swaying while he moved further into her view. He had on all the customary padding for the sport. His long legs were encased in fitted grey pants covered from the knee down by black leather padded boots that defined the shape of his calf. However, he'd abandoned the typical long sleeve robe in favor of a formfitting t-shirt coupled with a throat-clasp cloak. The cloak was currently thrown over his shoulder leaving the whole of his upper arm deliciously exposed above the wrist guard.

Something was wrong, however. He hunched slightly as he came in as though anticipating a blow from an unseen adversary. His right arm was hugged tightly against his torso, the bracing removed. As he walked she could tell he was placing his weight carefully as he walked, to minimize the stress on his arm she assumed.

"What happened?" She applauded herself as she managed to entirely remove the concern from her voice.

His face darkened and he turned away from her, shielding the limb form her line of sight. _Bitch._ He spat inwardly, cursing the cold, emotionless tone of her words."Nothing."

She frowned at his back, her voice adopting a slightly threatening tone that didn't wholly mask the concern this time. "What happened?"

"I told you it's nothing."

"Was it practice?" _Pushy bitch, _he amended silently.

He sighed deeply, his back to her. "A bludger came after me but my hand caught most of the damage." He spun and held up his right arm. A vicious bruise bled down his muscle, engulfing it in a blotch line of blue. The smooth skin looked tight, swelling with the unnatural supply of blood to the injury. The back of his hand was split, caking dry with crimson from the scrapes across his knuckles. "It looks worse than it is."

"_Most_ of the damage?" Her tone was vaguely sarcastic.

"Yes." He turned to her. A crescent of burgundy ran from the end of his brow, around his right eye, and partway across the high line of his cheek. Around the injury, the skin was shiny and fiery as though the bludger had almost burned the skin as it went by. Two thin tears ran from the cut, staining his skin rusty brown. "Most of the damage."

"Oh my – " She stood from the couch more quickly than was proper. Walking quickly toward him, she stretched out her hand as if to caress the wound. Draco's heart twisted, wanting nothing more than to succumb to her touch, to allow her to care for him. But he knew better. He jerked quickly, arm snapping up to block hers, violently flinging her hand away from him. She looked taken aback and slightly confused. Her expression drove through him like a spear, lodging itself under his ribs, and adding to the pain of his circumstance. But he turned away from her again. He would preserve himself, his dignity at all costs. "I told you it's nothing."

He heard her voice crackle behind him, alight with her hurt and anger. He smiled a little, pleased he could still get her to react. The pleasure was gone at her next words though. "Oh I'm sorry, I forgot. It's quite normal for you to come in clutching a wounded appendage to you for dear life."

"I only come in wounded when I try to escape the wake of your high horse. I said I'm fine."

She paused, stung more than usual by his words. "Well excuse me for giving a damn. I suppose it would be better for me to just ignore you."

"It really wouldn't make a difference since nothing we say to one another is _real_."

Her heart ripped violently, wounded by the sadistic stress he gave the word. He wasn't this mean. He hadn't been this mean in a long while. Something was not right. She knew it. But her pride was too sore to search for it. So she lashed out.

"How could it be real when everything you do it based solely on your attempt to beat me?"

His eyes widened slightly, shock registering in their depths. "To _beat _you? You really think this whole thing is _still_ about a competition?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well you are a male so I assumed the only language you could think in was competition."

"As opposed to a determined effort to oscillate between bitch and harlot as often as possible. I believe that is your language."

"Thank you!" She threw her hands up in mock victory. "You just proved my point! Slander me rather than lose! You and your contemptible ego."

He looked at her, and she visibly drew back several inches, such a powerful and murderous expression met her.

"My ego, Granger?" His voice was dangerously low now. She thought she'd prefer him to be shouting. It was a more discernable outcome than this quiet simmer, concealing a tumultuous storm. "Are we really going to pretend that _my_ ego has the greatest role in this play?"

Hermione was silent. Nothing that came to mind could escape the fact that he was right. His ego wasn't holding this tension between them like a keystone. Both sides were ready to fall if only for the removal of that one delicate piece. She felt slightly ashamed. They were back here. The walls were back up between both of them though both wanted desperately not to have to fight anymore.

He watched her. The straight angle of his jaw was held up, forcing him to look down at her across his high cheek bones. Hermione had never felt as small, as powerless, and as utterly transparent as she did now. He scrutinized her. Her hair was down, falling in a tangled mane all around her face. Her eyes were putting up a commendable struggle against the hatred he saw burning behind them. His every instinct said to run forward, to end her agony. But he knew she wouldn't accept him. He wouldn't let her kick him down again – dignity at all costs.

He moved suddenly, pushing by her to his room. Without a glance back at her he slammed the door, leaving her alone in a silent common room.

XXX

**Question: Is there anything hotter than a strong, capable man coming back from something injured – not because he lost, but because he fought like an alley cat and won?**

**Answer: No! Not a thing in the world! Lol. **

**Happy Chapter! I managed to get this out despite all my current classes. Aren't you proud? Now what you should do is go leave a pretty little review to tell me just how happy you are that I posted a chapter. Go! Review!**


	24. Ribbons

**Soooooo….yeah school is a bitch….not gonna lie. You ever been on a team of four people who all magically think that you are the leader and have all the answers and can do everything without the help of anyone else? And then they wonder why everything comes crashing down spectacularly? Yeah I'm there. Anyway, so I got on line the other day and realized that you all have been mildly busy little critters and had written me several reviews….so I know this chapter is short – like really short. But I promise you it is worth it. I cranked this out last night in thirty minutes. Very proud of myself actually. Maybe I'll be able to get another chapter up soon. MAYBE. I know what has to happen and I have part of it written, I just couldn't bring myself to 'kill' any moments just for the sake of a higher word count. So there you are. I love you all! You are wonderful supporters! Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: My fiction-sense is tingling. What's that? There's an author running around who doesn't own any characters? Holy sandpaper flakes Batman! We have to stop her! To the Thesaurus-mobile!**

XXX

Hermione's foot caught, sending her forward in a wave of imbalance. She twisted herself, arms forward to break her momentum. A rush of white cold came to meet her, engulfing her as she plunged head first into a snow bank.

_God damn it_. She cursed inwardly. It had been a hell of a week. Exams were finally upon them. She'd just taken her Advanced Herbology exam and was berating herself for forgetting the eight uses of Borjon Seed juice. She'd spent at least thirty minutes on that topic alone because Professor Sprout had hinted that it would come up. But to no avail. She'd forgotten that the juice could be used as an antidote to Doxy Venom.

She wriggled and rolled, maneuvering her arms so that the brunt of her weight was carried by her wrists. With a mighty heave she tore herself free, chunks of frigid ice falling away from her high-collared coat.

"Of course," She muttered, angrily brushing snow out of her hair. "This would be the way Hogwarts sends me off. 'Here you go Hermione, take seven murderous exams and to top it off I'll throw you in a snow bank! Sound like a plan?'"

She stepped out of the snow, back toward the path beaten down by students fighting the elements just as she had fought. She took a deep breath, the chilled air filling her lungs simultaneously creating a sense of calm and exhilaration in her mind. It was Christmas time.

The castle looked like a wonderland. The doors were strung with two enormous wreaths covered in little ribbon creatures that scampered around and around in a circle. As she approached, they suddenly noticed her and chorused 'Merry Christmas' in high-pitched unison. She smiled as she pushed her way into the entrance hall. Herbology had been her last exam. Being head girl the trail left two days early, allowing her the chance to go home early if she chose – a chance she was gladly taking.

Hermione stomped up the marble staircase, kicking clumps of snow off her boots. She liked these boots. They had a slight heal on them that elongated her stance just enough and the top was trimmed with a fluffy black fur. As she reached the top of the stairs, Mrs. Norris came slinking in front of her. Hermione let out a muffled laugh. The cat looked utterly ridiculous. It appeared that Filch had tried to dress her up for the season with an enormous bow on the back of her neck. However, the bow was much too large for the poor animal and so appeared to be a hat. Mrs. Norris gave her a reproachful look, as if indignant at the laugh, then ran off down the corridor.

Hermione walked quickly, the rubber soles of her shoes making a light squeaking noise due to the melting snow. She approached the portrait hole and stopped abruptly. The painting was not still and silent as she so often found it to be. It was half way open and a small flick of a dark cloak was visible for an instant before the portrait shut with a muffled thump.

_Damn it._ Only one person could possibly have entered that portrait and he was the very last person she wanted to see right now. She'd successfully avoided him for the preceding weeks, ducking around corners or into her room whenever he approached. They had the same schedule so seeing him in classes was unavoidable. However if she lingered just long enough, he was already in his room by the time she got back.

She sighed a little to herself. It was a tiresome games she played. But his last words to her had left her feeling so naked, so exposed, that the shame she felt had her hiding from him. There was no avoiding it now though. She knew he wouldn't go to his room. She had no reason or no indication of how she knew it. But she knew he wouldn't. She knew he was waiting – waiting to see.

She took a deep breath, the extra oxygen failing to calm her as well as she would have liked. A light shake developed in her hand, but she stilled it by thrusting her hands deeper into her coat pockets. _Go Hermione. Just go._

She walked forward, speaking the password as she went. The oil painting swung forward familiarly, revealing the flickering warmth within. She stepped through, feeling vaguely like she was approaching her death bed.

There he was. He hadn't sat down. He was leaning back on the thick arm of a couch, one leg bent slightly, the other stretched out. His hands were at his sides resting on the fabric with a deliberate intensity. His back was hunched, slack with the air of one who is waiting for something. But his eyes held her as the always did, hypnotic in their temperamental intensity.

"Hello." She was shocked to hear her own voice initiating a conversation. He looked at her simply.

"Hello." They were silent.

"Did you finish your exams?" Hermione blushed lightly. What a stupid question. Of course he had finished, they had the same exam schedule.

"Yes." Silence.

"Well, I'd better be going." She figured it was best to get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

"Where?" Malfoy's voice was simple, forcing her to acknowledge the fact that she had nowhere to be going.

"I – have to pack. I'm going home tomorrow, since I already took my exams."

"You've already packed." His voice was quiet, still with that same interrogative quality.

"I haven't quite finished. I have a few more things – "

"What are you doing?" She paused, halted by what he said – by the double meaning there.

"I don't know what you – "

"_What_ _are you doing_?" He asked again, the intensity in his voice tightening.

She didn't answer.

"Why are you still running from this?" He looked at her. His eyes were intense and questioning, but not cruel – just desperate. Desperate for an answer.

"I'm not running from anything. Maybe it's you who –"

The abruptness of his movements cut her words short. He stood up suddenly, feet regaining the weight of their owner with dizzying rapidity. He moved forward to her, extending a hand. Gingerly, he ran his fingers down the front of her face tracing the curve of her brow bones, her nose, her lips, her chin. Her eyes automatically fell closed, her entire body raging at his touch. Her lips parted slightly, raggedly drawing breath at the familiar sensations he gave. Suddenly his hand was gone. The air that hit the newly exposed skin was sharp and cold, unfamiliar in its abrupt entrance.. Her eyes opened, about to protest.

His mouth descended on hers, capturing it in a light touch. He wasn't kissing her, per se. Rather his mouth was merely hovering above hers, lightly brushing her lips in time with the exhalations of his breath. She inhaled a little, mind blank with the familiar sensation of his presence. His scent assaulted her, clean and masculine without the pretention of expensive cologne or excessive aftershave. It was pure, uncorrupted masculinity.

Without warning, he finished the kiss. It required no more effort than simply pulling her chin upwards toward him, closing the gap with his taste. She moaned softly, trying her hardest to contain the sound. His hand tightened ever so slightly on her cheek, running along her jaw into her hairline.

Unbidden and unwanted, Hermione began to cry. Everything in her was screaming to run to him, to collapse into his arms and let herself be weak. Let him carry the burdens she fought so hard to hold. Let him hold her, not in protection from the world, but in acknowledgement of her struggle. Let him know the comfort he gave her. But…

She pulled away, eyes downcast. She held her head from him, trying her best to conceal her anguish from him. He was having none of it. He pulled her head up sharply, forcing her to show him her pain.

"Do you see this?" His voice was harsh now as his finger swiped across the water on her cheek. He held it in front of her face, massaging it between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you see what this is?" His eyes stared at her, holding her helpless. "Can you not see that this much pain is not natural? I can see it. Every time you're near me it's a fight. A fight to resist. A fight to stay in control. A fight to stay alone. Why? I know you want this. I know it by the look you get. You wouldn't be fighting if you didn't. So tell me now. What aren't you seeing?"

She tore away from him, wrenching her face away from the warmth of his hand. The tears came harder now, accompanied by shudders and shaky breaths tearing at her lungs. "I – I can't." She whispered it softly, barely audible to anyone. But he heard.

"What? You can't what? _Tell me_." She shook her head, eyes shut tight.

"It's not right. It isn't proper. So much between…no. It can't-"

"I love you."

Hermione stared. A long moment passed. She simply looked at him. His straight nose, his smooth skin, his sculpted mouth, his blue eyes, watching her, waiting. Simply waiting. _What did he say_? She opened her mouth a little, as though to say something. But no words came. He spoke for her, filling her silence.

"I love you, Granger. I love you as selfishly as my own life. I want you with me. I want to be around you. I want you deliberately, rationally, and entirely. I want you as mine, to belong to me – no one else. _I – love – you._" He spoke each syllable as one would a profanity, throwing it at her. Forcing her to absorb each dagger that pierced her mind, tearing at her and pulling at her heart.

Tears flowed mutely against her skin. She stayed silent, wanting desperately to give in. She looked at his figure. He stood poised as though preparing for battle. Except there was a slight weakness to his stance, as though the ability to give in was merely holding by a thread until the final cut was made. She remembered him around her. The first night he'd kissed her, the passion with which he had held her to him. They'd barely known each other three days and he'd claimed her, in a sense.

She moved up to his face, the blue eyes there. She remembered the boyish amusement he'd held there when he'd played the hero for their logic class. Hermione felt a jolt even now at the intelligence and power he had to have in order to achieve such a trick. She trembled even more at the thought of what that power could do if turned against her. The things she knew he could do to her and make her do in return. Her mind now pulled back to the rock over the waterfall. She began to cry harder. The tenderness that he'd held her with, his hand extended to her offering comfort, relief, and strength. She had felt so safe in his arms. She knew she wouldn't fall. She knew he would hold her, do whatever he needed to protect her. She gasped a little at his brutal interrogation on the balcony. He'd known then what he told her now. He was just trying to confirm it.

She'd felt that same safety when he'd pulled her to his lap in her room, cradling the small of her back gently but strong enough to make her melt with the protection of his touch. Why couldn't she just fall? Just let herself go just once in her life? What was stopping her? _No_. She wasn't allowed to. She was Hermione Granger, book worm and school nerd. And he as the Slytherin Prince – forbidden to her by everything she'd thought for the past six years.

As silently as her tears she turned around, leaving him standing in an empty common room, alone and silent.

XXX

**Oh! Did he! I think he did! Lol. Don't worry birdies. She's very close to giving in. I have at least one more big 'oh shit' moment for her to have over Christmas. Then I might be able to work something out. You have to talk to these characters though. I'm telling you. They do whatever they damn well please. I really have no say in the matter. Ha ha ha. Review? Pretty please?**


	25. Cloaks

**Sooo….one abysmally failed relationship later I return to you. Happily I have moved on to greener pastures but the really exciting part is that I finally managed to get another chapter up! Yes yes yes I am aware that I did not give you the everything that you desired but I hated my last chapter and could not for the life of me figure out how the hell to fix it…**

**Until of course a very lovely and very concerned SilviaLace messaged me to check whether I was alive or had been abducted by pirates and taken to their secret research laboratory under a volcano. Needless to say she is to thank for this latest installment. She isn't a beta-er per se. More just the buoy to which I cling when the elusiveness of my muse proves fatal. (Aren't metaphors fun).**

**So I leave you to enjoy this next chapter. It is later than I generally like to post this because I like seeing the millions of hits all in one day. However, I feel you all have waited enough and thus I post this two hours before midnight. Please read and comment. I don't know when I'll be able to write again but I'm so sick of this semester that I'll likely need to find release in the realm of fanfiction. So enjoy my lovies!**

**Disclaimer: tinparrot: "WHYYYY! Why is my life so miserable? I cannot write anything and none of my characters actually belong to me. I am a waste of a human being." *sobs and throws temper tantrum on floor***

**SilviaLace: "Awwww it's ok tinparrot. Wanna go get a cupcake?"**

**tinparrot: "Ok…"**

XXX

"_I love you, Granger. I love you as selfishly as my own life. I want you with me. I want to be around you. I want you deliberately, rationally, and entirely. I want you as mine, to belong to me – no one else. I – love – you." He spoke each syllable as one would a profanity, throwing it at her. Forcing her to absorb each dagger that pierced her mind, tearing at her and pulling at her heart._

_As silently as her tears she turned around, leaving him standing in an empty common room, alone and silent._

Hermione's eyes flew open as a sharp breath rushed into her lungs, intoxicating her on oxygen. She shifted slightly, a sharp pain running clear down the length of her right shoulder ending at her left hip as the muscle curled in protest to the sudden movement. Her brain churned sluggishly as she attempted to process her surroundings. Only then did she become aware of a smooth plane resting on her cheek. She pulled her head up, skin peeling away from the slick page of a book she had been using as a headrest. She'd fallen asleep on the tome, perhaps in vain hopes that in unconsciousness its contents would permeate her mind.

She looked around slowly. She was in the library. She could see no one in her immediate field of vision. The stained glass windows glowed with a faint purple light indicating the time to be somewhere around nine o'clock in the evening. Hermione tried to catch her breath, forcing her inhalations to an even tempo.

She looked down at her hands. She had them clenched firmly around the arms of her chair, all the blood gone leaving them completely white and cold. She pried her fingers away with an immense force of will, wresting each joint free of its locked position only to find her hands shaking uncontrollably.

It had been a dream. A vivid, visceral, carnal, erotic dream about _him_. But still – it was just a dream. She slumped forward, arms coming up to provide a support for her head as she tried to calm her nerves. _It was just a dream_ she told herself. _Nothing more than an aggravating and meaningless dream._

She stood up suddenly, her chair sliding choppily across the carpet. She began throwing book after book into her bag. She didn't even see the world in front of her, so deep had she fallen in her own mind.

She swung her bag up over her shoulder and hurried out of the vaulted room. The halls were silent. Not even a ghost was around to give the impression of life to the castle. She wasn't particularly surprised. Every year at midterms and finals they did their best to keep out of the corridors for the sake of students studying. Hermione had been given to understand that because of this courtesy, every ghost new the inner walls of the castle extremely well and as such could move about the castle undetected.

She flashed by the suits of armor, barely registering their existence. She was pushing her body to its physical limit of walking, as if by moving quickly she could leave the memory of the dream behind her in the library – and everything it implied.

Far sooner than she would have liked, she was outside the common room. The bird was asleep, elegant head tucked under one bright blue wing. She glared at it silently. It wasn't so much the bird she couldn't stand. It was what lay behind the painting that was the object of her distaste.

She straightened her back, adjusting her bag higher up on her shoulder, and rapped sharply on the frame.

The bird let out a shrill squawk, feathers puffing out to display his distaste.

"What, pray tell, is your problem?" His voice was gruff and aggravated from lack of use.

"Copious," Hermione said clearly.

"What?" The bird looked wholly confused.

"The password. I would like to get into my common room. The password is copious. Please let me in."

The bird eyed her amusedly then said in a sneering voice, "I'm sorry. The password has been changed. It was time, you know. Please try again."

_What?_ She couldn't understand it. "I'm sorry. But that simply isn't possible. It is my duty to ensure that the password rotations are kept in line. I haven't changed it this month. Thus the password must still be what I set it at last month. Now I appreciate your humor, but as it is late would you please let me into my common room."

"I'm sorry miss. You know I can't do that – not without the password."

"But I haven't changed the password! Not – " Hermione stopped short. She _hadn't_ changed the password. But she wasn't the only one who could.

"Malfoy!" She shrilled at the top of her voice. "Godammit! Let me in this room right now! How dare you change the password without my knowledge! You do know you aren't the only one living here you know. Dammit let me in or I swear I'll – "

The portrait swung inward. In her anger she'd completely forgotten about the dream. As such, she was wholly unprepared for his presence. He stood before her, weight hanging lightly on one hip allowing the other leg to be slack. He wore a tight white t-shirt that hugged his torso and effectively drowned out all speech. His pants hung loosely on him, accenting both the slenderness of his waist and the angle of his hips. But the most entirely incapacitating item was a black half cloak. It was a fitted number that hung to his hips. He had pulled the hood up, adjusting it so that all but the blue of his eyes and the structure of his mouth and jaw were doused in shadows.

Hermione hitched her breath as the memory of the dream engulfed her again and for several long moments she couldn't speak, but allowed him to smirk at her.

"Hello Granger." His voice was a low purr, shuddering the air between them. "Would you care to come in?"

Even by the minimal light on his face she saw the joy there, the thrill of a fight. She set her mouth sternly, attempting to show him that he had not won, that she was entering of her own free will.

She heard him chuckled darkly as she brushed by him, intentionally avoiding his gaze. She attempted to make a bee-line for her room, cutting around by the couch without stopping. No such luck.

"Oh come on. I don't even get a thank you for that little trick? Or a well done? Maybe a few sickles as a tip?"

Hermione stopped but didn't turn around. She remained silent, refusing to look at him but not precisely acknowledging him either.

"Wonderful. Something's jumped up your ass and has made you all bitter." She could hear the laughter in his voice. He was toying with her, tossing her from paw to paw before he pinned her down for the kill. She heard him walk into the kitchenette adjacent to her. She turned to find him reclined against the counter, both elegant hands wrapped around the counter top.

He cocked his head at her. "What is it? You only got a hundred and six on your last exam?"

She glared at him, still not speaking.

"It isn't academic is it?" His eyes threw laughter at her, making no effort to conceal his entertainment. "What's got you all bothered Granger? Is it a bloke?"

She tossed her head, staring resolutely ahead of her, about to keep moving.

"It is a bloke." She saw him grinning out of the corner of her eye. "Let me guess. Some poor, twisted chap has decided he wants to make a pastime of devouring and as such declared to you his undying love and wish to sweep you off into the sunset." He stood forward. "How'd I do?"

Hermione let out a savage cry and whirled to face him. "You know _what_ Malfoy? I have HAD it with you and your superiority complex. You have no idea who the hell I am. What if some guy had asked me out huh? What if he had?"

Malfoy made a move like he was going to respond.

"Save it! I don't giving a flying shit what you have to say to me. I'm a single, young, desirable female who can stand on her own without any declarations of love from you – " her eyes flew wide and she stumbled back a bit. _What the hell did I just say?_ She groped desperately for a cover. "F-from you – or – anyone else. Or anybody. So – so just take your arrogance and…drop it somewhere. Because I don't care!"

She spun back to her room and rushed through the door, slamming it behind her. 

Hermione's heart was racing. Her legs would no longer support her and she fell to the foot of her bed.

What was happening to her? First she has a painfully vivid dream about him. Now she literally flew off the handle for no reason and likely left him as confused as she felt. She knew how he felt about her – or at least she knew what he'd been giving off. The kissing, the groping, the eyes all leant themselves to an air of complete and utter interest on his part. The fact of his affection toward her was clear.

But what of her opinion toward him? Well that one was easy. She – what did she think of him? She'd unfortunately let her hormones run a little far in that direction and as such clouded her rational thinking. _Hate. I hate him. Yes. That's right. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I – _

A sudden knock broke through her train of thought. She opened her eyes and looked toward the door from her position lying prone on the carpet.

"Hey Granger." His voice was deep and clear, even through the solid oak.

She scrunched her eyes closed and curled her face back down into the thick fibers. _Why now? Why? Why? WHY?_

"Granger I know you can hear me. Answer me."

"No," she said into the carpet. She heard him laugh and couldn't help smile knowing she brought him amusement.

"Ha ha. Very funny. Can I come in or would you prefer to conduct this exchange from two opposite sides of this slab of fire kindling?"

Hermione rolled herself onto her back, hand pinching the bridge of her nose to afford herself some other sensation than that of complete disgust. She said nothing.

"Is that a no?" She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

Slowly and with great effort she expelled her answer. "No."

The door swung open before she had time to register she'd said anything. The abruptness of his response alarmed her and afforded her no time to adjust herself from her spot on the rug.

"Bed a bit too far for you?" She glared up at him, her angry brown eyes meeting the humor in his blue ones. He waved his hand noncommittally to one side. "Unimportant. Now I don't know what the hell happened back there, but, besides the fact that it clearly got your panties in knots, I really couldn't care. What I needed to ask you is if you are staying here for the Christmas holiday or if you are going home."

She studied him, puzzled. "How is that any concern of yours?"

He frowned slightly at her. "It's not." Her heart twisted mildly. "Dumbledore caught me in the hall the other day and told me if we are both leaving for the holiday, one of us should lock up and check the room for any hazardous issues." He raised his hands as if to show a lack of knowledge. "I have no idea why it isn't something that is built in to the castle but there it is. That's all I wanted to know."

She continued to look up at him, silently observing his face.

He tossed his head to one side, bangs sweeping across the arc of his forehead. "You know what. Forget it. I'll deal with the old and senile one." He spun around abruptly, elegant legs propelling him toward the door. The sound of her voice behind him slowed Draco's pace.

"I am going home – to my parents. My last exam is at four so I'll be packing up and heading out after that. I know your exam is at the same time so – " he cut her off.

"I'll take care of it."

He could feel her eyes on his back as he shut the door behind him, a slow, powerful smirk stretching his face into a look of utter contentment as he did so.

"I'll take care of _all_ of it."

XXX

**He he he he. What is Draco concocting? More importantly what is Hermione's head doing to her? Shame on head, making her dream such naughty, naughty things about sir Draco. Lol. Review loves. Review lots and lots. **


	26. Serpents

**Hellooooo! How are you all? I am quite well. I am in an absolutely fan-TAB-ulous mood! I am done with my freshman year of college. I acquired an internship for the summer with a starting salary higher than most people hope to have upon graduation. By my calculations I can finish my two majors in four more years exactly. I have 100% completion on Portal 2. I have – oh wait! Are you still here? Most importantly, I have a NEW CHAPTER! Lol. I also have 1000 words typed for the next chapter….sadly it is the last 1000 words which means I have to find 1500 words to fill the first part….grrrr. Oh well. I love you guys so you know I'll figure it out. **

**Disclaimer: (To the tune of 'It's Raining Men' originally sung by The Weather Girls. Yes I have to disclaimer my disclaimer.) I've got a pen! Hallelujah, I've got a pen! But no men! I'm gonna go out and try to write, but I don't own a man to-NIGHT!**

XXX

Snowflakes arced through the winter air behind the double pane window Hermione leaned against. She was curled up in her favorite spot in the house, a window seat on the east end of the living room. A thick foam cushion covered in an old fashioned floral tapestry sat under her, protecting her from the wood of the bench.

Hermione cradled a steaming cup of tea in her hands, raising it ever so slightly to waft the scent of Raspberry Zinger toward her nostrils. Her eyes slipped closed, head falling back against the deep green of the living room wall. She'd been on break for almost a week. It was Christmas morning. The large fir tree in the corner of the living room was piled high with packages wrapped in paper glittering from the lights on the trees. The cat was happily soaring around in dreamland laying sprawled in front of the fire. Everything was as it should be.

Except…at night. As thrilled as Hermione was to be back between her own sheets, her slumber was assaulted by visions of passion and ecstasy in the arms of a man she hated. _No_, she shook her head slightly. Hate in its purest form was not what would describe her current emotions toward him. She had been sitting alone for long enough over the past few days to know she couldn't hate him as much as she supposedly did without having some other emotion mixed in as well. And it certainly wasn't hate when her visions were writhing with him on green satin sheets, gasping for breath.

Hermione had never been afraid of sex. She had never been squeamish about it or viewed lust as a shameful sensation. However she never treated the act lightly either. She knew that the action had the possibility to be entirely all-consuming and erotic beyond compare. It just had to be gifted to a worthy recipient.

"Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?" A voice forced its way through her reverie as so often happened to her in moments of contemplation. Her mother smiled at her from across the farmhouse kitchen table. Hermione opened her eyes, forcing her face into a look of relaxed contentment.

"Yes, mother. I slept very well. Yourself?"

Her mother began chattering to her about a bird that had nested above their room that had kept her up all right. Hermione watched her quietly. She loved her parents, she did. She knew they were happily married and knew they loved each other enormously. However, she had a very hard time imagining them having any truly passionate intimacy between them. There was no thrill in their marriage, no lust, no narrow-minded physical desire. It was sex purely for procreation and marriage consummation.

She had been comparing that to her own ideals, her own desires, and her own intellectual philosophies. She didn't want that. She knew she wanted more than that. Hermione had been contemplating what such a creature worthy of loving her would look like, what he would say, what he would do, how he would behave. As aggravating as the conclusion was, she knew he was that man. She knew he had the capacity to satisfy her every desire – for the mind, for the body, and for the soul.

However, she didn't have to do a thing about it. She was damn bound and determined to stay as far away from love with that man as she could – _ever._

"Honey? Are you alright?" Her mother looked at her concernedly. Hermione smiled lightly.

"Yes mother. I'm wonderful. Shall we get on with Christmas?"

XXX

Draco sat in his darkened study, the deep ebony wood paneling of the room sapping the faint early morning light slinking through the heavy velvet draperies. A crystal glass filled with a deep crimson liquid hung loosely from the tips of his long fingers. He had been sitting in this pose for around an hour. He hadn't slept this night. He had an appointment bright an early and had simply chose to stay awake rather than risk the plague of sleep.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in." His voice growled harshly, gruff with lack of use.

A house elf pushed its way in to the room. "Master Draco. A man is here to see you sir."

"Thank you. Please show him in here."

The house elf bowed himself out. Draco stood up, finishing the last swallow of his drink in one fluid gesture. He moved forward to the fireplace, staring hungrily into the flames. The bright orange chemical explosion licked the logs with wild abandon, not restrained by any taboo or barrier of any kind.

Draco's movement was sudden, an eruption of physiological energy. The hand holding the drink glass reeled back, fingers white with the grip on the clear container. The glass smashed against the back of the fireplace, exploding against the brick into a thousand pieces. The fire fluttered slightly, fanning in the gust of air brought in with the glass. He laughed dryly. Of course the fire continued. It could do whatever it wanted. It was free.

"Mr. Malfoy?" An old, smooth voice came from behind him. Draco turned to see a short, frail man standing before him, impeccably dressed holding a large dark green briefcase. Draco straightened himself, running his fingers through his hair. "I received your letter, sir. I am Mr. Marcus from – "

Draco held up an elegant hand. "I know who you are, sir. Forgive me for my temper. It was merely the result of a long night. Do you have what I asked for?"

The old man nodded, touching his briefcase lightly with the hand not wrapped around the handle. Draco gestured to a claw foot desk on the other side of the room. Mr. Marcus inclined his head, walking to it, and set his case on the table.

With two sharp snicks the clasps on to flipped open. The case unfolded smoothly, revealing a mechanical masterpiece of cubbies, doors, and display cases.

"I understood your wishes, Master Malfoy. However, I made you several options, and I do hope you will pick the one that most suits your liking."

"I shall try my best. Please, continue."

Mr. Marcus's hands shook slightly as they approached the top-most drawer in the briefcase, weathered skin appearing almost translucent in the cold light. His spindly fingers delicately extracted the drawer's contents, gathering the item together before extending it to Draco.

"This was the first. You see the fine detailing in the metal. It was – " As he talked, Mr. Marcus watched the young Malfoy's face. The cold blue eyes examined the glittering object in his hands with an intensity rarely seen in the modern world, as if assessing whether the object was worthy of its purpose. He had heard little of the Malfoy heir. In his youth the boy had been cruel and cutting. However as he aged, he fell more and more out of the public eye. Mr. Marcus had to wonder what on Earth was so important that the young Mr. Malfoy would call on his services.

"No." The note was cool and exact. "It is too simple. Show me what else you have."

Again and again Mr. Marcus revealed the contents of his bag and again and again Draco reject each in turn.

"I'm afraid I have misinterpreted what the young Master had in mind. Perhaps I should leave now and come back with a better selection for you." Mr. Marcus hesitantly watched for the reaction. Blue ice seemed to interrogate him without saying a word.

"Is that everything you brought?" Draco's voice was calm, collected.

Mr. Marcus glanced down slightly. "No sir. There are two more items. However I really think it would be best if I –" Draco cut him off.

"Show them to me. I want to see everything you brought me. Then we can discuss other options." Mr. Marcus nodded silently, turning back to his collection. He fiddled momentarily with a latch holding closed a embossed ebony door in the side of the container. He reached his spider's hands into the compartment, lifting the contents from three tiny nails driven into the back. He transferred the object to Draco who took it, a quiet fire lighting in his eyes.

Draco held the object between his hands, running over the details with a master's touch.

"Like I said sir, I am not sure this is –"

"This one." Draco looked up at Mr. Marcus, certainty bringing a steel to his eyes. "You will sell this one to me. Whatever the price."

XXX

Hermione lifted her foot up over the last stair with a weary figure. It had been a long, wonderful day. She and her parents had spent Christmas morning together opening and exchanging gifts, spending much needed family time together. At four o'clock there was a knock at the door. It was an owl from the Weasley's inviting all three of them over for Christmas dinner. Her parents had been reluctant to go at first, but ended up laughing harder than all of them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley recounted their humorous journey to Wales.

Hermione had been delighted to see Harry and Ron, both of whom were at the Weasley's for the holiday. Harry had given her a magical dictionary that changed languages at the will of the owner. Ron had produced a box full of candied plums. Simple, perhaps, but they were Hermione's favorite treat and hard to come by in her town.

She opened the door to her room quietly, slipping inside without a sound. Moonlight fell across the room, striping various pieces of furniture as it poured through the window.

Hermione went to her closet, slipping the thick turtleneck she'd had on over her head as she went. She eased herself out of her jeans, pushing them down over her hips with a sensuality borne of exhaustion. She pulled out a black nightgown, to the hip with a large, loose bow tied on the front. She walked to her vanity on the wall in front of the foot of her bed. She took off the black earrings she had on, refastening the clasp and hanging them on the rack next to the mirror.

A glint of silver caught her eye, a glint that shouldn't have been where it was. In the mirror, a thin, dark box sat on her bed, bathed in a single strip of moon light. Hermione turned around curiously. There most definitely was a box sitting quietly on her floral comforter. She walked to it, sitting down and picking it up lightly.

The box was black velvet, about half the width of a text book but just as long. A silver ribbon tied it closed and the initials "M. O." were monogrammed in the upper, right corner in stylized cursive fonts.

"M.O." Hermione muttered to herself. She knew of only one shop with that name. _Marcus Ornaments_ she knew was a wealthy jewelry store in Diagon Alley. She had never had any reason to enter before, and the prices were rumored to be unstomachable.

She pulled at the ribbon and it slithered to the bed's surface, coiling like a snake. Hermione slipped her fingers into the crack of the box, prizing open the spring-loaded hinge at the back. She gasped.

Inside the box was a necklace, a feast of metal and stone. She stared at it, momentarily breathless with the extravagance. She curled her fingers under the chain and lifted it delicately from its box. The jewels dangled in front of her, glittering in the light from the window.

The chain was long and silver, magical to the touch. Instead of a normal linked chain, each piece was a complicated Celtic knot that attached lyrically to the next. Each was so small, the effect from a distance was that of a diamond dust shimmer. As the chain approached the middle, the knots changed from plain metal. Around each side of the center point of the necklace, a row of five progressively larger emeralds hung lightly, wrapped in the same style knots as the links. The emeralds were cut to sharp points that protruded out from the surface of the necklace giving the impression of spikes, a warriors garb.

But the true artwork of the neck piece was the pendant hanging between the emeralds. It was the image of a serpent crafted in the style of the Celtic knots by virtue of fluidity. It's fangs were bared, tongue curling viciously into a coil that connected the adornment to the rest of the necklace. It seemed to hiss at her, eyes glinting with emerald dust detail. The snake's body spiraled tightly, winding itself around a perfectly shaped pearl that lay nestled amidst its deadly embrace. The tip of the snake's tail was tapered to a wicked point, the dagger pointed outward as if to guard the wearer's heart from attackers.

Hermione raised a finger, brushing against the needle-point lightly, and gasped. An almost imperceptible bead of blood was growing on pad of her finger where she stuck it. It was an absolutely stunning piece of craftsmanship, finer than anything she had previously seen.

Hermione glanced down at the box. A metal plate was affixed to the lid. She picked it up, angling it toward the light so as to make out the engraving on the polished silver.

_What are you?_

The box slid from Hermione's hands in shock, colliding with the floor in a slight bump. She looked at the precious article again. She should have known from the first – serpents, emeralds, the mark of him was unmistakable. He was as present in the necklace as he was in her head. As present as the scent of him was as she pressed her face to her pillow at night, willing it to smell like him. As present as the thirst she had for his taste, swirling and begging to be quenched. As present as the shudders she felt when she remembered them pressed together in a dance. As present as his hand on hers, pulling her to safety from a rock. As present as he was in her mind. Always with her – always around.

Without thinking, she stood up, fingers closing around the gift. She walked to her mirror, not turning on a light. He would prefer the cool touch of the moon's light to the harsh glare of electricity.

She stood looking at herself, alabaster skin pale against the dominant black of her night wardrobe. She took a deep breath and slipped the long chain over her head, pulling her hair out from beneath it. The necklace itself was short, only falling just at the top of her breasts. But the snake extended down much farther, the point ending just in the middle of her cleavage. She thought darkly that he had planned that fit. He had wanted to see her in the necklace like that – just like that.

"No." She spoke the word aloud, a quick declaration against what she saw. This is not how he would want to see her.

Hermione moved suddenly, yanking the hem of her gown up, up over her head, tossing it to the ground in a violent gesture. She reached behind her, unclasping her bra, pulling it away, letting her breasts fall free to the cool air of her room. She pulled the band out of her hair, shaking it and letting her curls fall freely around her face. She felt a shiver run up her spine, as if he could see her now. As if he knew what she was doing.

She paused for the briefest of moments, uncertain whether to proceed. _Yes, Hermione._ Her fingers slipped under the sides of her lace underwear, pulling shyly until they slipped all the way down her legs. She stepped out of them, dropping them in the pile with the rest of the clothing.

She was completely naked. Taking a deep breath, she shifted her gaze from the thick beige carpeting to the woman reflected in the mirror before her. Hermione gasped. The effect was exquisite. The snake hung aggressively against her skin, seeming to mark that everything on her body was owned by someone. The chain fell fluidly down her bones, dipping in and accenting the contours of her chest. It was an ornamental gift to glorify her figure and her person, glorification and ownership proclaimed by the giver.

This is how he would want to see her – exposed. Every fear, every protection, every doubt, and every security stripped away until the only reality she was left with was the one with him in it. That was the reality that she lost her self to him. That was the reality that made her hands wander at night as thoughts of him assaulted her mind, concentrated only on the ecstasy his touch would provide, the stability his mind would lend, the _sanctuary_ his arms would represent.

And she fell to the floor, tears streaming down her face, coughing in the face of the reality she now saw.

She loved him, more completely and more viscerally than she ever believed she could. But she did. And now she had to live with it.

XXX

**Whoa now! What just happened there? Like I told you, I have the fun chuck of the next chapter written. If you be good birdies and review lots and lots, you'll get it soon. If not….well. Sad day for poor Draco. He doesn't get any action. You wouldn't want to deprive him would you? Lol. Review loves!**


	27. Returns

**How are my little tweet tweet birdies? Are you all good? Remember how I told you I had like 500 words of the next chapter written? Well, I was sitting at work the other day terribly bored because they don't give me enough to do and I started writing…and writing…and writing. Lol. And here came this. I'm treating you very nice giving you another chapter when I'm working 40 hours a week. Ok? So what should you do to return the hotness I bring forth? Review. And lots. I'm not feeling so sassy today…I'm more romantic. It must be all that Red Dead Redemption big sky going to my head.**

**Disclaimer: You know what goes with bread? Butter. You know what goes with peanut butter? Jelly. You know what goes with authors? …. I seem to be short a pair. No author's rights for me. How terribly incomplete.**

XXX

The night was clear. The sun had not quite finished its routine travel to the horizon casting a slight orange tinge to the dark stormy sky. The grass of the castle grounds was too long and swayed gently in the light air of the evening, rippling calmly as if it were a single ocean of dull grey-green.

Hermione stood on the balcony. Her hair was wild. She had run her fingers through it so many times it no longer held any of the initial style she began with that day. The breeze caught the hem of her nightgown, pulling the light fabric, flashing her body to the dying sun. The hair on her arms rose lightly with the rush of being so deliciously exposed. She smiled dryly to herself. She had lived the past two weeks with this level of exposure linked to the silver around her neck.

Her dark eyes were trained on the castle gate, watching every returning student make the journey up the path. She'd been standing in this repose for far longer than was comfortable. Her palms were numb from the lack of blood flow to them resting on the slick stone. Her left leg ached, flesh raw from the corner of the rail digging into her as she perched. The breeze at her back was frigid, icy air tearing through the blanket she had wrapped tightly around her. Her toes cramped viscously under her supporting leg, delicately keeping her balance.

Light snow had begun to dance down from the clouds, falling onto the frosted grass in a powdered sugar imitation. She was waiting for him. She knew he would be back today, as she was. She understood without words, without a full formed thought that she was to remain silent and stoic, poised – for him.

Dark booted feet made impressions in the dusting of snow on the stone pathway. Deep blue jeans hung heavy on his hips, the hems caked with icy liquid. A weighty cloak swung around him, parting for the briefest second to reveal the shocking white of a T-shirt. Grey eyes scanned the crowd, imperceptibly and frantically searching for some sign of his target. Hermione exhaled softly. _Sanctuary_.

As if the breath had called to him across the frigid terrain, his head flicked to her. Cold met warm as their eyes danced together, locking in a palpable line of fire in the air. She could see his body turn slowly to her, weight shifting, boots grinding circles in the snow. He moved easily, not a visible action to the surrounding crowd. He veered off the main path, taking a stone walk that looped around the castle to his right. He was come to her – _for_ her.

Hermione's breath labored a bit, her air flow restricted by more than just the cold of the atmosphere. She knew there was a side door that entered behind the Great Hall. It was used mostly by teachers as it entered into a hallway directly behind their table. It also happened to make a sharp turn to a staircase – a staircase that came out directly in front of their dormitory.

He approached the door, breaking eye contact with her and unhooking the latch in one fluid motion. Draco moved through it quickly, the wood falling closed behind him with a heavy thud. Hermione sat staring at the wooden barrier that had just cut his powerful figure from her line of sight. She seemed frozen again. Her neck was cramped awkwardly around so that she could see him. She couldn't move, as if she'd been thawed by his presence time enough for him to traverse the grounds, then ice flooded her veins again, returning her to her quiet paralysis.

A creak echoed softly across her room from the open common room door. Hermione snapped her head around, staring back through the open French doors of the balcony. There was a heavy thud, followed by muffled footsteps. He must have dropped his rucksack on the floor.

Hermione detached herself from the ledge, feet screaming in protest as they made contact with the cold ground. She padded softly forward, clasping her hands around the chenille blanket at her shoulders. She stopped just inside the doors, warmth flooding back to her. The doorway to her room had a magical barrier of some kind allowing the doors to be open to be open but the temperature to stay constant. She watched her bedroom door hesitantly, waiting for him to enter.

The footsteps halted their thudding progression on her stairs, keeping him just out of sight from her, tearing at her heart. He was going to make her voice her desire for him. She wouldn't be allowed to rely on him – no faking reality would he sanction.

"Come in." Her voice was clear but quavering, brutally accepting of the world her words opened. She could hear his gentle smirk in the silence, confirmed when he walked through the polished wooden frame.

Draco stepped into the blood red room, firelight licking every surface it could reach. She stood before him, proud and terrified at the same instant. Her neck arched high, pulling her back straight up, attempting to camouflage her terror. A thick blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, pulling against her frame, shielding her from the cold outside. But in here, it was warm. There was no need for the desperation with which she clung to it or the fear her fingers conveyed.

Draco raised his head, jaw elevating a fraction of an inch conveying his distaste for the cloth. She appeared to steel herself, as if gathering her resolve to face judgment from one whose good-opinion she craves. And she released the fabric. Draco exhaled low, a growl gracing his throat as he drank her in.

She'd dressed for him. He knew she had. But she had done with such subtlety and class, one could be forgiven for thinking it mere normal sleeping attire. Her legs and feet were bare, closed together with a sultry innocence, her left leg arched in a hip cock. He traveled the lines with his eyes, marveling at their imperfect proportion, celebrating how much more real that made her. Just below her hips rested the hem of her gown. It had caught tantalizingly on the shimmering high cut lace of her panties, hooked on an emerald green gem interwoven into the black floral pattern.

Her nightgown was of deep green satin, almost black in the low light. The light from the fire reflected off the curve of the fabric in a bright arc. The cloth hung around her, falling languidly over her curving hip bone, reminding him of the parts of the siren he was not seeing. The satin bunched together as his eyes travelled up, gathering and trimmed with an emerald detail under her breasts.

Draco inhaled sharply again. The top of the gown was similar in style to a bra. The sculpted cups were covered in the same green-embellished lace he'd gotten a glimpse of earlier. The straps were thick and luxurious, fashioned out of satin in the same green as the rest of the gown. The construction pulled her chest together, pushing the pale orbs up and together – creating an alabaster shelf on which rested –

"You're wearing it." His voice was low and visceral as though each word pulled from him was an agonizing fight. She moved her hand to touch the chain at her throat. In one lightning motion he leapt forward, seizing her wrist, preventing her from disturbing the vicious adornment nestled in her cleavage. She let out a small squeak of pain.

He released her at once, pulling her arm toward him, soothing over the aching flesh with his tongue. She gasped. He felt her shiver and looked up at her. Her lips were a deep, ruby red – evidence of her nerves as she compressed them between her teeth. Her hair was full, fuller than fashion would dictate. However in their current state, the untamed debauchery only added to the eroticism of the moment.

But her eyes, as they so often did, drew him in. They were frantic, roiling with a dozen different emotions that all centered around the man standing before her. She flicked her gaze down, the twinkle of the stone against her cleavage cut the air sending a brilliant flash of pink and yellow arcing across her vision. She touched it lightly, rolling the stone between her fingers.

"It's beautiful." She whispered, eyes still concentrating on the floorboards that rested frigid beneath her bare feet.

"Yes." It was a simple statement, no more obtrusive then the fire licking the logs on the hearth in front of them.

"Why?" She still didn't look up. He moved in front of her, his booted feet shuffling softly on the carpet. She sensed his closeness before she saw it, his presence a magnetic force pulling at her.

She felt his hand on the side of her neck, the warmth of his skin searing her to the core. His thumb pushed on her chin, lightly forcing her head up to look at him. She met the clear crystal blue of his eyes, seeing the flame there, the light they carried.

His hand stroked down her neck slowly, following the silver chain supported there.

"The chain, for your fidelity." His hand kept moving further, tracing over the fair curve of her collar bone to the rising flesh below.

"The stone," he touched the string of emeralds down the chain's side, "for your constancy." His hand left the necklace momentarily, brushing over the top of her breast, lightly grazing her nipple and making her breath hitch in her throat. He moved back to the necklace, lacing the pendant between his fingers as he spoke.

"The pearl, for your desire." Hermione closed her eyes momentarily. He had her entire body on edge simply from the tone of his voice.

"The snake, for your evasion." She pulled lightly at him but he tightened his hand on the ornament, holding her still.

"And finally," he whispered, pulling her close to him. He held up the point of the pendant, running the needle sharp end down the curve of her cheekbone. "the point."

She looked up at him, eyes clouded with lust and desperation and ecstasy. "The point," he said again, "to remind you that, as I live and breathe, as I stand here before you, as I am a man and you are a woman, as there is magic in the night and death in the slums, you are staked to me. Your heart is speared with mine and we both belong to each other. You are _mine._"

She stared up at him, tears streaking silently down her cheeks as she shook in his arms. His breath fell across her, cooling the lines of salt on her face. His free hand trailed at her waist, slinking under the short satin gown, tracing the top edge of her lace underwear and coming to rest in the small of her back. He looked down at her, safety and comfort in his eyes. "Now," he levered his thumb under her chin and forced her to look directly at him. His voice was soft, barely audible if they had not been occupying the same space. "What are you?"

She looked at him, silently fighting the response she so desperately wanted to give. She shook her head imperceptibly, unknowingly, begging him to answer for her.

His eyes burned bright with anger, rage at her continued denial. With the hand still on her neck, he turned her head into him. His mouth descended violently on her neck, kissing every inch he could find, biting down on the skin behind the cord of her neck. Simultaneously, the hand at her back abandoned restraint, delving below her waist band across the curve of her behind. His fingers stroked the inside of her thigh, then shifted slightly. She cried out as he found the silken evidence of his effect on her.

He detached himself from her neck, pulling away and staring straight at her face. He moved suddenly, closing the gap between them, sealing the kiss. Except, he stopped, mouth hovered a scarce width over top of hers. He spoke again, growling the words as if wanting to shove them down her throat. "_What are you?_"

Before she could move, before she could even think she spoke, voicing the only response that formed in her mind.

"I am yours."

XXX

**Birdies, lovies, reviewers most adored. Please, please, please. Save me from the sexiness that is Draco. Save me from the all encompassing protective envelopment that is his perfection. UNGH. I adore him. So very freaking much I can't stand it. And the ANSWER! I've had the answer to that question for about three years now. You don't even understand. I'm so happy to finally give it. Please review? If you review, I promise I'll get the next chapter up. I'll give you a hint. If you were a sexy as hell man whose love interest just admitted true feelings, how would you respond? With your tongue? I think so. Now don't you want to read that? That's what I thought. Go review.**


	28. Releases

***Presents head to the guillotine. Willingly enters the stocks. Throws herself in the path of a chariot race. Offers herself up to a firing squad.***

**I'M SORRYYYYY! I knowwwww I've been away for too god damn long. If you all still like me enough, I'll give you the super short reason.**

**School's a bitch. I only had a timeline written out through the end of Christmas where she gives him her answer. And then my "snippets" file had NOTHING! NOTHING WILL YOU TELL ME! My muse gave me the finger as she rode off into the sunset on the back of a broom clinging to Draco's muscular back and cackling while Hermione and I are all "Da fuq?"**

**Ok. Anyway. I took a pad of paper and a pen to class with me the other day, sequestered myself in a corner between classes, and held my muse at gunpoint till she gave me this. Enjoy? Maybe? If you don't hate me?**

**Disclaimer: This space has been intentionally been left blank. Only fanfiction authors who actually care about their readers have a right to even pretend they're worthy of rights. This author is not under that category. Please try again later.**

***Also...I updated chapter one. You can go read if you don't completely hate me. :D  
**

XXX

His face did not change. It was almost as if she hadn't said anything at all. The fire continued to crackle beside them, throwing light on his straight nose and beautiful full lips. Hermione's stomach clenched. Perhaps he no longer wanted her. Perhaps she had damaged the circumstances so badly that, even if she had now come to want him, his want was lost forever. Her heart beat increased slightly as she watched him, waiting for some response to her words.

He would not look at her. His eyes were softly fixed between her breasts, gazing at the ornament she wore. He fondled the pendant gently, rolling it between his fingers so the facets of the metalwork caught the orange light. Hermione was scared now. After his aggressive, passionate display only minutes ago, the complete lack of any emotion or acknowledgment was more terrible than either acceptance or rejection.

His fingers left the chain at her bosom, skimming the soft pale flesh of her cleavage as he went. Hermione had been standing perfectly still, waiting for him to react. She knew this was not her place to lead. She knew she must wait for him. But this breach, this miniscule taste of the touch she so longed for challenged her composure. She inhaled a little, steady breath faltering.

His eyes snapped to hers as if he'd been waiting for that hitch. She finally saw what she had been anticipating. The deep blue abyss of his eyes was full to bursting with expertly controlled passion. He had her and he knew it. Yet he remained completely calm as he surveyed here. His hand stopped just below her breasts, pausing for a fraction of a second, reveling in her expectation of what he would do.

The tips of his fingers moved around in the luxurious fabric, parting it, searching for the fastening that concealed her body from him. He found it. Deftly and with such skill Hermione was sure he had practiced, he freed the snap. The front of her adornment fell open slightly, revealing to him an uninterrupted slice of skin running down to the top of her panties. She bit her lip, breathless for his next move.

Draco's eyes were on fire. He trailed his fingers down the newly exposed flesh, moving across the dip of her ribcage and the slight curve of her stomach, and down to the outside of her lace, never changing that slow, measured pace. She inhaled sharply, silently begging for him to continue his ministrations. He smiled slightly to himself bringing his hand back up to the pendant, hovering for just a moment.

Slowly, so slowly she thought she would die, he pushed aside part of her beautiful lace. Hermione closed her eyes, unable to bare the feeling of his scrutiny of her form. She felt the garment pull away and the warmth of the firelight across her breast.

Draco watched her as he pulled the fabric the rest of the way off. He let out a low breath, stomach clenching as every inch of her flesh was revealed to him, the flesh he'd been aching to see for so long. Her smooth skin glowed in the firelight. The voluptuous curve of her breasts were highlighted by the soft glow of the fire. He felt a rush of heat through his body as he studied her form, her nipples hard from her arousal and, he noticed, the exact shade of the bottom lip she had pressed between her teeth.

He stretched out a hand, placing it on her cheek. She heard him move and opened her eyes, revealing their questioning, chocolate brown beauty to him. He met her gaze. She looked anxious, nervous, terrified of what he was going to do. His fingers pushed back, just barely entering her hairline.

His other hand moved up to grasp hers, slowly pulling it from where it hung by her hip. Taking her fingers, he slipped them beneath the waist band of her panties, pushing down the intricate lacework. She understood him, moving her other hand to match his placement. Not breaking his gaze, she slid the lace down her legs tossing them to the side as soon as her feet were free.

The fabric had barely landed when he pulled her up – hard. She gasped at this sudden ferocity, the hand at her cheek forcing her into a standing position. He dropped his hand immediately after she straightened. His look had changed, darker now. Hermione knew that this was what he truly wanted to do, a passion only contained by some unknown plan he had for her.

His head tilted slightly to the side, watching her face.

"Come." The word was low and clear, an obvious command. She looked at him slightly confused, unsure where to go.

So fast it almost seemed unreal his hands snapped up. His long fingers closed around her pert nipples, simultaneously pinching them and pulling her forward. She cried out in surprise and was quickly overcome with a wave of hot, molten pleasure.

"_Come,_" he said again, this time striding backward to her door. He felt for the handle behind him and threw it open. The heavy wood collided with the wall in a violent crash, filling the tense air with sound for a moment.

Not wanting to anger him further, she moved toward her bathrobe thrown over the back of her arm chair.

"No." She froze. Again the word was a rigid, unyielding command. She turned to look at him, silently begging he didn't mean what she thought he meant. But she knew better. She knew that if he wanted her to walk through the entire castle in this state, she would do it for him.

He beckoned to her with one curt jerk of his finger. "Now," he added at her momentary hesitation. She obeyed this time, padding softly across the room. She moved through the door feeling his gaze on every inch of her as she stepped into the chill common room.

She shivered. The cold air felt unpleasant against her naked form. His eyes smiled darkly, appreciating his view.

Without a word he crossed the dark room, his figure slashing through the strips of early moonlight and throwing him into fleeting, violent clarity. He grasped the heavy metal of his bedroom door handle, pushing it open to reveal the darkened chamber beyond. She saw him wave his hand and a soft light sparkled in the depths of his room. She heard the fire crackle into life and saw low hot flames behind him.

He turned back to look at her again, and she immediately followed after him, not wanting to make him wait this time. Draco watched as her beautiful naked body slid through the darkness. Flashes of her skin glowed creamy white in the moonlight. He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. As she arrived at his entryway he stepped back from her, retreating further into the room.

"Close the door," were his words once she'd crossed the threshold. Hermione concealed a smile. She though this a very paradoxical display of privacy considering the state in which he had her follow him. But she obeyed, grasping the dark wood and swinging it on creaking hinges to block the outside world.

As soon as the lock clicked, Draco released every fraction of self control he'd been clinging to since he first saw her tonight. He threw himself forward at her, not even allowing her the comfort of turning around. She cried out as she felt him collide with her, his denim hips grinding into the round flesh of her backside. His hands skated down her arms, pulling her wrists up, clasping them behind her neck.

"_Don't move._" She whimpered at the order, nodding her head against his neck. He bit her neck softly, feeling her squirm against him. She wanted him as desperately as he wanted her, had wanted her for months. She caused him many frustrations, many agonizing nights of being unable to be truly satisfied, wanting so much more than the brief stolen tastes of her. And she would know, know just how much he suffered from her teases, the glimpses he was afforded if she happened to bend the right way, the thousands of images he'd concocted in his head. He had her now. She was….

"Say it." The words cut the air with the intensity of a whip crack. It took Hermione a moment to realize he had said something, so clouded was her mind by the feel of his body behind her.

He shifted a little, he hand tightening on her upper arm, long fingers closing around her soft flesh as he pulled her forward ever so slightly.

"Say it _again_." The emphasis was evident this time. She knew what he wanted. Somehow, she'd never felt more small and powerless against someone. She shifted a little in his arms, steadying herself against the truth.

"I am yours." This time she felt his reaction, a violent shudder traversed his body as the syllables fell across his beautiful mouth. His hand on her arm shook violently as the power of her words overwhelmed him.

"Again," he growled at her, his fingers running down her hip, pressing her hard into him. She whimpered a little. The hand at her bicep slid up her arm, clasping her fingers, lacing their digits together and holding her in a vice grip so she could not flee him. She was blind with lust for him, spinning in a world where only his touch existed. She managed to gasp "I am yours" again to the air despite his distracting her.

His breathing was erratic, fighting to maintain a rhythm of control. He twined her hands together behind his neck, latching them in his hair and ensuring she would not try to move them. His hands now roamed over her stomach, across her hips, up to her breasts. He found her nipples, hard again with the heat of his body so near her. This time he did not hesitate. His deft fingers gripped the rosy peaks fiercely, twisting and pulling with a passion just short of violence. Hermione could not contain herself. She gasped loudly, moaning and arching into him as short bursts of hot pleasure wracked her body.

"Louder." The word was almost manic, so desperate was he to hear this from her at last. She whimpered louder, not in pleasure nor pain but simply the feel of him and his control of her.

"I am-" she gasped as his fingers tightened on her breasts "-yours."

"You need to speak more clearly Miss Granger," he growled into her neck, mercilessly still torturing her poor nipples.

"I am-" again she stopped as he pinched hard mid statement.

"_Say it again._"

She cried out, her head thrown back against his shoulder. He could see her eyes screwed shut tightly as she attempted to focus long enough to say what he wanted. He refused to let up, twisting and teasing violently, testing her limits of what she could handle and then pushing her just a little beyond. Hermione's breath was coming in gasps now as she writhed in his arms, unsure whether to flee the overwhelming pleasure of his touch or remain and be driven mad with the pleasure.

She flung her hands forward onto the wood of the door, palms colliding with a loud crack. She seemed to find anchor in the ebony as she stilled – and spoke.

"I am yours, Draco. I have been and I am now. Only yours."

"_Finally,_" he breathed the words into her hair. She barely had time to register he had spoken when her feet were swept out from under her. He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to his bed covered in deepest green. He tossed her on it unceremoniously, her backside colliding with the soft mattress.

Within seconds he was on top of her, kissing her with every ounce of passion he had. Hermione was stunned by the ardor of his mouth. His lips moved dexterously over hers, his tongue masterfully outlining her kisses, pushing his way forward and tasting everything that now finally belonged to him. One hand cupped underneath her, pushing her forward into his mouth, fisting in her wild mane of hair.

His other hand slid down her side, skimming along her voluptuous curves and feeling her reaction to him. Without breaking his kiss, he slid his long fingers between her legs. He groaned into her mouth. She was so wanton for him. His fingers skated over and around her folds on a silken layer of her arousal. She whined into his mouth, her kisses stilling in anticipation of what is fingers would do. He broke the kiss, pulling his mouth back slightly so he could look upon her face. His fingers paused their movement, not wanting to continue if she was uncertain. Her eyes were half open, watching him, waiting for him. She shifted her hip, opening her legs a little – giving him the permission he sought.

A wave of crashing relief overcame him. He surged forward connecting their mouths again. Simultaneously he plunged his middle finger into her. She screamed softly into his mouth, not in pain, but in the complete and ecstatic pleasure of feeling him move within her. He curled his fingers slowly, feeling her soft silken walls quiver and move around him. She tossed her head sideways, breaking the kiss, unable to concentrate on anything but the feel of him moving inside of her.

Draco shifted on top of her, moving off to lie at her side. He continued stroking her inner walls, watching her beautiful face contort as he moved over certain spots.

"Hermione," he whispered her name in her ear. Hermione opened her eyes, surprised to hear him say her name. She turned to look at him, his face barely illuminated by the soft glow of the dying coals. What she saw sent a surge of some new emotion deep through her.

His eyes were soft, warm now after being so angry mere minutes ago. A soft smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at her, face a hair's breadth away from hers. His bangs tickled her forehead as he leaned in to speak to her again.

"I want you to touch yourself, love." She pulled back from him, startled and slightly embarrassed. He moved his finger in her, effectively halting her retreat and stilling her body. She looked up at him, her large eyes uncertain and looking to him for an explanation. He shifted his hand underneath her, cradling her to his chest.

"I want to see how you reach your pleasure. I want you to show me." Hermione looked at him still, uncertain what he was doing. She'd done this many times, many times to the thought of him in fact. It seemed rather inconsequential as to why he would be interested in her pleasure, not his. She looked deep into his visage, searching for some double crossing or malice in his actions. She found none.

She nodded quietly. If he wanted it, she would do it – for him. She shifted below him, her body falling into a familiar position, eyes slipping closed.

He watched her in fascination. Her hands slid down her form, skimming along her flesh lightly, slowing as they reached the gentle mound between her legs. She began slowly, fingers moving lightly over her concentrated bud of pleasure. She increased her pace gradually, her movements light and dexterous with the ease of a long practiced activity.

Draco studied her beautiful face. Each stroke of her hand contorted her face slightly. Her eyes were closed. Her brow furrowed in intense pleasure. Her breathing was only just unsteady, a token to her task. He smiled. Leaning down gently to her ear, he asked

"Would you like some help?"

She shuddered a little at his words, a small smile gracing her lips. She opened her mouth, pulling in the flesh of her bottom lip and nodded imperceptibly.

He began moving his finger again, curling against her walls and searching for her pleasure. She gasped as he did this, her own hands quickening their pace on her figure. She panted, flexing her hips up slightly to meet his assisting fingers. The sensation was powerful, a new realm of pleasure for her. She arched her back against the bed, body tensing at the building pleasure.

Sparks flew through her body, electrifying every inch of her. She could feel the familiar pressure building, faster than ever before, more powerfully than she could achieve on her own.. Her legs were tense, toes curled in delicious preparation for her imminent release. Her eyes were shut tightly, fingers concentrated on keeping a steady rhythm. She was close now, almost too close to stop.

"May I?" The words escaped her lips of their own accord, uncontrolled by her. She opened her eyes in surprise, looking up at her lover, begging his permission for her release.

Hermione felt a rush of emotion quite unconnected to the friction between her legs. This was something new to her, something foreign, something she hadn't known existed or could be hers. He was watching her face. Not her hands. Not her breasts. Not her naked form before him. But her face. And he watched her with such a look of serene calm and adoration she could not believe it of him.

"_Yes,_" he breathed into her ear, he words seeming to carry everything his expression conveyed. It was the answer to everything she wondered. To whether or not he truly cared for her. To whether or not he could handle her nature. To whether he would stay with her. To whether he would shelter her from the harsh world. To whether he would protect her from any and all cruelty against her. To whether he would love her.

And Hermione let go. Wave upon wave of ecstasy flood her body, radiating out in torrents of heat from between her legs, from where his hand had stilled against hers, grounding her as the blinding white pleasure violently attacked her body. Her back arched against the bed as she screamed, calling his name over and over as she shook in his arms.

As she reached the very peak where she thought she would shatter into a thousand pieces, she felt his mouth on hers, kissing her, absorbing her cries for him, steadying her as she rode her climax. Unbidden, unwanted, and completely unplanned tears sprung into her eyes. Sweet, salted water pooled at the corners of her lashes and escaped down her face in rivers.

Her body relaxed gradually, the spasms of pleasure ebbing away only to be replaced by violent, wracking sobs. Draco's heart clenched viciously and he pulled her to him. He buried her face in his shoulder, holding her tightly, gently rocking her as she gasped, soaking his shirt with her grief.

And he heard her speaking, sobbing, begging into his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I'm so, so sorry."

XXX

**Ummm….yeah. So that happened. I'll be in my bunk. Am I forgiven? Please? I love you all…I still love you all. I will try not to be away for so long this time. Just blah blah blah writer's block. Oooo! Here's an idea. If any of you have snippets of ideas, give me….seven words. Just seven about something you think would be fun to happen in future. I don't feel like reading a novel. 'Specially as I've just written one. Hopefully those seven words will give me a bit of inspiration! And the love (kinda) can continue!**

**Review? Please?**


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